


Love Is Coming Out To Play

by TheVagabondBoy



Series: Shoot the Sunshine into My Veins [25]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BDSM Scene, Begging, Blindfolds, Blood As Lube, Blood Kink, Blood and Violence, Body Worship, Boot Worship, Breathplay, Caning, Cock Rings, Cock Worship, Collars, Come Eating, Come Shot, Comfort/Angst, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Cybersex, Dom/sub, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhibitionism, Fight Sex, Fighting Kink, Fights, Fist Fights, Flashbacks, Forced Orgasm, Frank and Matt are avengers in this one, Future Fic, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Matt Murdock, Hair-pulling, Heavy Angst, Heavy BDSM, High Heels, Humiliation, Impact Play, Insults, Knifeplay, Lingerie, M/M, Master/Slave, Multiple Orgasms, Nightmares, Nipple Play, Nipple Torture, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Painful Sex, Painplay, Poker, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Psychological Trauma, Public Humiliation, Romantic Face Punching, Rough Sex, Roughness, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sensation Play, Sex Toys, Sleepy Cuddles, Sort Of, Sparring, Spit As Lube, Stiletto Heels, Strip Poker, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma, Verbal Humiliation, Vibrators, Voyeurism, idk - Freeform, kind of, maybe not really, soft frank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-10 22:29:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12309177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVagabondBoy/pseuds/TheVagabondBoy
Summary: They didn't plan on telling the rest of the team about their relationship. The more people knew about them, the sooner it would leak out to the public, and if the public knew, there'd be rioting in the fucking streets.Goddamn, Frank and Matt just cannot catch a break, can they?But, out of all fuck-ups, good things can grow. Right?





	1. Part One: Loving You's A Bloodsport

**Author's Note:**

> i am sorry  
> this is gonna be a short series, similar in style to 'Your Naked Magic, Oh Dear Lord' but as of yet im not sure how many parts its gonna be so we're on this adventure together, I guess
> 
> Title from:  
> Love In The Middle Of A Firefight, by Dillon Francis (ft. Brendon Urie)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from:  
> Bloodsport, by Raleigh Ritchie

_ “Castle, Murdock, you’re up!” _

Matt bit the inside of his cheek. He had told Steve a hundred times,  _ he was not going to spar with Frank, _ and yet, the soldier insisted on trying to get them to go at each other.

“Rogers.” Frank cut in, though, before Matt had the chance.

His body vibrated with a tension that hadn’t been there a minute ago. Matt actually kind of hated this, but...they had both agreed that maybe it was best to keep their relationship quiet. If people knew, it would get out to the public sooner or later, and that would most likely just do more harm than good.

“Told you a thousand times, Spangles. I ain’t fightin’ no cripple.”

It did hurt a little to hear Frank say something like that, but he knew Frank hated saying it too; he could hear his heart stagger and stomach roil at the word. Matt was anything but a cripple, and they both knew it.

“Though I’m  _ nauseated _ by the choice of words,” Matt chipped in, using his best lawyer-on-the-attack voice. ”-I agree with the sentiment. I don’t fight bullheaded idiots who are more obsessed with the size of their  _ gun _ than the well-being of the people we’re supposed to protect.”

The meaning of that gun comment was of course implied, but Matt could feel the room hush a little at it.  _ Don’t insult a man’s masculinity, _ and all that nonsense...

“This is  _ exactly _ why you two need to go a few rounds.” Steve said sharply. “Maybe you can work out whatever the hell’s goin’ on between the two of ya. Now, I am the leader of this team, so I don’t care what  _ you _ think or want. I’m giving you an order.  _ You are going to spar. _ Get to it.”

And with that, the Captain returned to his seat.

Frank exhaled a deep sigh, but got up anyway. Damn it. Matt fucking hated this, but he got up too. He was going to catch a hell of a lot of shit for it, if he didn’t.

“Whatever damage gets done, it’s on you, Spangles.” Frank called over his shoulder.

They both walked over to the weapons racks. Frank grabbed a knife; one of those big hunting things, with the serrated edge and all. That was going to hurt. Matt grabbed his batons.

“Tap-outs and knock-outs?” Frank asked as they both moved out onto the mats.

“Sounds good.” the blind man agreed.

“On my mark.” Steve said from the sidelines.

The fighters took up positions. Matt gripped at the batons restlessly. Frank did the same to his knife. This wasn’t going to end well. Not for anyone but the two of them, at least.

_ “Fight!” _

Frank ran at him. Arms wrapped around Matt’s midsection; he was slammed into the floor. Frank got on top, one knee on Matt’s upper arm and a heavy boot on the other wrist to keep him down. One, two, three punches.

Matt kicked his legs up, knees hitting Frank’s back. He fell forward over Matt, off balance. Matt got his arms loose, wrapping around Frank in return. They rolled over, Frank on his back and Matt on top. Frank slashed at him with the knife before Matt could hold him down. The blade caught his arm, Matt hissed. A moment of distraction, Frank punched him again. Matt fell to the side, off his opponent. Frank was on his feet, Matt kipped up easily and raised his batons again.

Blood trickled down his arm, and seeped into his mouth from where his cheek had caught his teeth. They circled each other slowly. Matt had to get in and do more damage.

Frank feinted a lunge, Matt stepped back. He feinted again, Matt stepped back. He went for it, going in swinging at Matt. Matt hit Frank’s arm with a baton, deflecting the punch and throwing it back. Frank grunted at the pain. His moment of distraction. Matt ran at him. He leaped; one leg hooked over Frank’s shoulder, the other around his side. They hit the floor again. Matt maneuvered it into a standard headscissor lock.

But Frank didn’t let him hold it for long. Matt let out a short shout, when Frank bit into his thigh. And...no, neither of them really intended for it, Matt would suppose, but his dick definitely took notice of  _ that. _ Maybe he should have told Frank no biting during the match; he knew what that did to Matt.

Frank wrestled himself out of the hold. He locked an arm around one of Matt’s legs, rolling them over again until Matt was on his chest. Once he was down, Frank tossed his knife aside and clasped his hands under Matt’s chin, dragging his head back to keep him locked down.

Matt would have none of it.

It took a decent struggle, but he bucked Frank off his back. He got on his feet before the marine could try to get his hold back. But Frank rolled off him, to where he had thrown his knife. It was back in his hand without a moment’s delay.

They traded blows, moving swiftly back and forth across the mat.

Dodge, dodge, block, baton to the side, elbow to the face, high knee to the solar plexus, land a kick while he’s disoriented and hit the side of the head with the shin. Frank hit the floor.

Matt drowned in the heavy hormonal scent of rage. Frank was up again in no time.

He came in hot, Matt worked without thinking; block the jabs, sidestep, dodge the upper cut, block the kick.

Frank swung his whole arm with the blade. He was too angry to think ahead; Matt caught the forearm in the side, knife and hand behind his back, looped both arms around Frank’s, applied pressure inwards, forced the elbow the wrong way. Something crackled and popped in Frank’s arm, he shouted. Nothing broken, but it’d hurt like hell for a good while.

_ “Cool it!” _ someone yelled from far away.

Frank kicked out at his legs; side of the knee, it folded under Matt. Rolled out of the fall, on his feet again. Frank was on him. Right hook, right hook, left hook, quick combo at the body. Matt staggered back. Blood spurted from his nose, he gasped for air. A heavy, boot-clad foot landed against Matt’s sternum. Things got blurry, then he was on his back, on the floor.

“Stay down.” Frank hissed.

He spat. The copper scent of his blood in the air was intoxicating.

Matt got up again. Damn the day he’d let Frank beat him in a sparring match. Frank growled, deep and dark in his chest. Matt’s jaw ached; those hooks did a number on him. Blood poured down his arm, filled his mouth, trickled from his nose.

They ran at each other. Frank roared like a lion. He had rage to rival the Hulk. Matt could match it well.

*

It was a brutal fight.

It was real fucking hard to believe one of those assholes was totally fucking blind, with how he was bouncing around like a fucking pixie on crack.

Clint could see the hate between them. Really, he hadn’t put much stock in the whole  _ ‘the Punisher and Daredevil hate each other’s guts’-_rumor, but  _ goddamn. _ Yeah, shit was frosty as hell between them, Clint knew that, but again,  _ goddamn. _

Castle punched like he wanted to knock the head off Murdock’s shoulders, and Murdock kicked like he wanted to put his boot through Castle’s torso. And they were  _ mean _ about it. It wasn’t exactly a clean fight. Clint saw plenty of biting, hair pulling, and  _ attempts _ at hitting below the belt. Thank Christ none of  _ those _ connected; Clint wasn’t sure he’d survive watching a dude get his dick literally fucking crushed.

“Keep it clean!” Steve shouted, as if it would actually register with anyone.

And Clint had never seen a ninja, but shit, Murdock had to be the closest thing. The way he was fighting...it was something else, alright. But that wasn’t to say that Castle wasn’t putting up a damn good fight right back. Clint had been on the receiving end of Castle’s onslaught before, as well as Murdock’s. Neither was a  _ fun _ time. God knows how they were both still standing in  _ this _ fight. Honestly, by now, Clint would probably long since have tapped out.

*

How long had they been fighting? It was hard to tell.

They were both wrecked; Frank was reeling for breath, face scraped up from all the times Matt had knocked him face first into the mats and his nose was maybe broken and his shirt was a little torn up, and Matt was near to dead on his feet, blood pouring from his nose and arms covered in cuts and something close to a concussion rattling his head.

But they were on either end of the mats, both taking a moment to breathe.

Matt fucking loved Frank like this sometimes. When he was burning the hottest, when he was so angry he almost broke into pieces, loved to get fucked by him when he was like this. Fuck, he always did it so hard and fast and mean when he was angry. It was amazing. He smelled divine. Like testosterone and blood and sweat and sex, God, Matt couldn’t get enough of it. It was a better drug than morphine.

It was like Frank could read his mind. He threw the knife down, spiking the blade into the mats. Matt dropped his batons. Frank dragged his shirt over his head, tossing it away. Matt did the same; he wiped the blood from his face with it before discarding it. He could hear the others get ready to intervene if they had to.

Frank spat a mouthful of blood to the side. “You’re so goddamn hot, you fuckin’ dick.” he said.

“I love you so fucking much, you asshole.” Matt replied.

They met almost dead center of the mats. Matt jumped on Frank immediately. Yeah, like he was  _ ever _ going to waste time when it came to sex with Frank. He wrapped himself around his marine, legs at his waist, and the marine easily carried him. The kiss was as mean as the fight. It tasted like blood, both Frank’s and Matt’s own, and sweat and so much like  _ Frank. _

Fuck, Matt could feel how hard Frank was for him, their crotches sliding perfectly against each other. Frank’s hands on his ass were the best thing in the world, helping him grind more against Frank’s body. He groaned with annoyance as one moved, though. It closed over Matt’s arm, fingers pressing hard on one of the cuts. He hissed, and dragged himself out of the kiss. Frank didn’t mind; he just attacked Matt’s neck instead.

Matt unhooked his legs, moaning so magnificently obscenely at how Frank was biting over his carotid. His hands moved from his husband’s shoulders, down his chest, prodding at the bruises already forming, to his belt. Bloody fingers found Matt’s lips, shoving past them into his mouth. Frank’s cock was hard as rock when Matt could finally get in his pants; fuck, that was beautiful. It was hard and thick and long and leaking and pulsing in his hand. He moaned again, around the fingers he was wetting.

Frank ripped his fingers away, and wrenched Matt’s hand out of his boxers. He punched Matt again, blood and spit flying. Matt hit the deck with another whorish noise.

_ “What the fuck?!” _ someone said, just as Frank all but collapsed on top of Matt.  _ “Seriously, what the absolute fuck?!” _

The blind man was far too gone to give a shit; he focused on destroying Frank’s neck with his mouth and grinding their bodies together. But Frank planted his hand on the side of Matt’s face, pressing his head hard into the pads.

“Watch, or  _ get the fuck out.” _ Frank growled, while Matt worked to open his own pants. “This bitch ain’t gettin’ nowhere no time soon.”

_ Mh, fuck, he loved that, loved the insults, loved being called a fucking bitch, a slut, a whore, couldn’t hear it enough. _

Frank moved his hand from Matt’s face, fingers going back into his mouth. He slapped Matt’s hands away,  _ hard, _ and took over work on his pants. He dragged them down as far as he could, enough to expose all the necessary parts. Matt whined and hissed when there was more hard pressure on his cuts.  _ Fuck! That was good! So good! Burning, shining pain, so perfect! _ Frank grabbed the crotch of Matt’s pants, which was stuck somewhere between his lower thighs; it was like a fucking lead, a set of reins to control Matt with. Matt almost kneed himself in the fucking face. He clawed at Frank’s arms and shoulders and head, anything he could reach.

The fingers were ripped away again, but they weren’t gone for long. They went in his ass unceremoniously. The sudden stretch of two fingers made Matt groan and hiss, but also writhe back against Frank’s hand to get more.

_ “Little masochist bitch, _ fuckin’ love that shit, dontcha?” Frank spat.

He wasted no time in fingering him. It was fast and mean and beautifully painful.

_ “Ah! _ What’s that make you?” Matt spat back, gurgling up blood.  _ “Sadist cunt?” _

Frank’s whole weight pressed down on him; it felt like he was being crushed. His chest kept Matt’s legs immobile between them, knees over the marine's shoulders, and his hand wrapped perfectly around Matt’s throat.

“Better fuckin’ believe it,  _ bitch.” _

The fingers had become three without Matt really noticing it much. He did notice, though, when they pulled out. And he  _ definitely _ noticed when Frank’s spit-slick cock was shoved into him, at least half its full length in one push.

“Ah! Shit, yeah, fuck,” he cried, gripping harder at his husband. ”-oh, fuck, give it to me!  _ Yes!” _

Pressure on his cuts, teeth on his jaw, fingers squeezing his neck, tugging at his hair, hard rutting into him,  _ fuck, it was good. _ It was good beyond imagination.  _ But _ Matt was a glutton-for-punishment kind of whore. He dug his nails into Frank’s arms, his head, whatever he could get his hands on.

“Scared to give it to me harder, huh?!  _ Ah, fuck! _ Scared you’ll break the sad little  _ cripple _ in half?!” he shouted at Frank.

The thrusting staggered and Frank roared in pain, when Matt shoved his thumb into the scrape on Frank’s cheek.

“Be a fucking man!” he shouted. “Be a goddamn man, and  _ fuck me harder!” _

Frank pulled back for a moment; he shoved Matt’s legs to the side, forcing him to twist his hips to remain decently on his back. Then Frank was fully on him again, crushing him into the mats. He was moving so fast, so hard, fucking Matt with no mercy.

It wasn’t enough. It hurt,  _ but not enough. _ It was good,  _ but not enough. _

Frank grunted when Matt dug his claws into his back.

_ “Yes, you sadistic fucking cunt, give it to me harder!” _ he yelled. “You call that  _ fucking?! _ C’mon!  _ Harder!” _

He grabbed Frank’s hair, dragging his head back. Spit and blood flew as Matt punched him.

“Punisher?!  _ What a fucking joke! _ _This_ weak dick is  _ the Punisher?!” _

He pulled on Frank’s hair again and slapped him across the face, making them both moan. With the hand at Matt’s throat, Frank easily controlled him and kept him down. He wrenched Matt’s hand out of his hair, slamming the arm down to the pads.

_ “Shut your fucking mouth! _ You want it fuckin’ hard?” he asked, blood dripping from his lips. “Roll over, bitch.”

Matt groaned when Frank pulled out. As soon as he was out, though, Matt rolled over, knees and face on the floor, ass in the air. He heard Frank spit, and use it to lube his cock up again.

“‘M gonna fuckin’ give it to ya hard.” he hissed.

_ “Fuck!” _ Matt wailed as Frank pushed back into him again. “Oh, fuck, right there!”

Frank’s hands on his hips hurt like hell; he held on too tight, his nails were blunt but they still hurt when they dug into Matt’s skin, the way he moved Matt without giving a shit what Matt said or did.

_ “Ah, ah, ah, fuck, hit me!” _ Matt begged anyway.  _ “Hit me!” _

Frank growled behind him. One hand grabbed Matt’s hair, right there where his bangs sat, and dragged his head back; Frank pulled him up to stand on his knees, hands grabbing at Frank’s wrist and palming at his own cock.

“Do you  _ ever _ fucking  _ shut up?!” _ Frank shouted. “Goddamn!”

His fist felt like a brick when it punched Matt in the back, but still Matt moaned.  _ It hurt so good, all this pain ripping him up inside and the amazing pleasure of being fucked like a damn animal, it swirled in his head and he never wanted it to stop. _

“Shut me up then, asshole!” Matt said.  _ “Fuck, harder, Frank, ah!” _

The marine alternated between punching him in the back, and prodding at the cuts and bruises and scrapes that still bled. It smelled like sweat and sex and blood, and Matt couldn’t get enough of it. Frank pulled harder on his hair, dragging him up against Frank’s chest. He wailed at the pain in his scalp. A thick arm wrapped around his neck tightly, choking him just a little. Matt was going to cum, he wasn’t going to last any longer, he couldn’t do it, not with this, with all this, all this goodness that boomed inside him.

A hand grabbed Matt’s cock and the hand he himself had wrapped around it. Frank grunted in his ear, jerking him fast, hard thrusts bottoming him out inside Matt, and Matt could  _ feel _ Frank pulse and throb as he came, cum spurting inside him. A last whorish cry left Matt’s mouth, when he too came. He felt the cum spill onto their hands and the mats.

They both gave out, collapsing sideways onto the floor.

Frank’s arms wrapped around Matt a little tighter, in an actual hug, and he buried his face in Matt’s sweat-dripping hair. Matt melted into it, breathing in the smell of cum and blood and Frank around him. Frank’s cock slipped out of him; he felt the wetness of Frank’s cum start to seep out of his ass.

He almost felt bad, now that Frank wasn’t inside him anymore. He was almost nauseous and dizzy and cold.

Matt moved, even though his body was tired and ache-y and kind of limp from that amazing orgasm. He wiggled his legs out of his pants, toeing his boots off. Frank grunted softly at all the movement, but he seemed pleased enough when Matt shuffled around to face him. Matt wrapped a leg over Frank, guiding that beautiful cock back inside himself. He was still so magnificently hard, so big and hard and filling and Matt couldn’t breathe until Frank was inside him again.

Frank still tasted like blood when they kissed, but it was okay. The taste didn’t matter, it was Frank and that was all that Matt needed. They slumped over onto Frank’s back, Matt laying almost dead-limp on top of him. Frank’s hands held him tightly but carefully, they rested on his ass and ground their bodies together.

“So good, baby.” Matt moaned into Frank’s neck, hugging him tight. “I love you, I love you so much,  _ oh, fuck, _ I love you.”  


Frank grunted at the soft kisses. He held onto Matt like his life depended on it, as he sat up, keeping Matt in his lap.

“Beautiful. So beautiful, feel so good, baby.” he told his husband.  _ “Mh, _ don’t ever fuckin’ leave,  _ fuck, don’t.” _

_ “Ah, _ never. Won’t, won’t go, baby.”

Matt rolled his body against Frank, and Frank tried his best to do the same. Fuck, Matt almost hurt, he was so sensitive from his first orgasm, and Frank’s rough skin against his was getting hard to handle; but oh, God, it was good in a way, too. Frank’s big, hard body to wrap himself around, and feel inside himself.

“Keep going,” Matt begged. ”-keep going, baby, please, keep going.”

The marine groaned into his ear, kissing his neck and moving into him. “Fuckin’ love you so goddamn much, shit, ah, Matty.”

Matt pressed their foreheads together, breathing in the hot, heavy air between them. He breathed in every part of Frank’s scent, as he came. Matt’s body exploded with electricity again, and once more he felt Frank pulse inside him. And again, they collapsed together. Frank fell back on the mats, and Matt rested on top of him.

For a while, they only breathed.

“You good?” Frank asked at least, after a minute or two.

Matt had yet to really catch his breath. “Yeah. You?” he asked in return, though, between his heavy breaths.

He felt Frank nod against his shoulder. He hugged Matt a little tighter.

“I fucking love you, Frank.”

“Love you too, sunshine.”

Matt’s body protested quite a lot, but he managed to lift his head enough to place his lips  _ kind of _ on Frank’s, for a moment.

“We should get married.”

“We are married, Frank, remember? You cried.”

“Did not. And for real, I mean. On paper. Big church wedding, reception and a cake, gifts, all that shit. And we could go on a real honeymoon.”

“To where?”

“Don’t care. Long as I get to fuck you like that a buncha times.”

“Hm, I think  _ that _ part can be arranged.”

_ “You’re married?! To each other?!” _

Wait, who said that?

Matt lifted his head as if to look around. His senses were all out of whack from  _ two _ mind-blowing orgasms, getting a clear image of the world was difficult.

“You guys are still here?” Frank said.

Matt could see the rough outlines of a handful of people on the sidelines, seemingly rooted to the ground. Oh. Right. He started to recognize their scents under the heady smell of sex; Steve and Clint and Natasha, Bucky’s sharp freshness was in there too, as well as Tony’s metallic scent, and that weird ethereal ozone smell that always lingered around Thor was in the air too. Ah. They’d had a whole audience. Matt didn’t even notice.

“Uh...in the eyes of the Lord, yes. In the eyes of the law, no.” he explained anyway, clinging to Frank a little tighter.

Now he kind of remembered being totally naked and everyone was watching, and there was jizz on his ass and hands and chest and Frank’s dick was still half inside him.  _ Awkward. _

“Frank, come on.” he said, as he rolled off the man and snatched up the pants he’d discarded not long ago. “I need a back rub.”

Someone cleared their throat stiffly.

“Can we...talk about what just happened?”

That was Steve’s voice. Frank scoffed, pulling his own pants up and tucking himself away.

“I warned ya. You’re the one’s who stuck around to watch.” he said while getting up, and was absolutely correct. “And now the cat’s outta the damn bag, so fuck it all, I guess.”

He took the hand Matt held out, helping him to his feet. But Matt had barely gotten there, before he found himself slung over Frank’s shoulder. He exhaled an exasperated sigh as Frank headed for the door.

“Y’know, you make it  _ really _ hard for me not to be a total size queen when you do stuff like this.”

Frank snorted, proudly flexing the arm not wrapped around Matt’s legs. “I know.” he said.

Matt chuckled at that. He waved goodbye to their teammates. He was pretty sure Steve regretted making him and Frank spar.


	2. Part Two: The Fears You Can Feel All the Way In Your Bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from:  
> Tell Me How You Died, by Handsome as Sin

 

** Part Two, Chapter One **

 

_ Why was everything so loud? _

_ The ringing in his ears was like he’d been hit with a stun grenade. And everything was white, he couldn’t see anything. _

_ He was running. _

_ Running, running, running, slipping in the sand, gunfire, explosions, gunfire, slipping in the sand, running, running, screaming, shouting, gunfire... _

_ The desert was underfoot but the skyscrapers of New York City towered over him. These streets, he knew these streets, the people with their blank faces, and the wet grass under his knees and the music of the carousel. Blood all over his hands and his face, it was everywhere, he could taste it on his lips, they were all there, laying in the grass before him, Maria and Lisa and Junior and Matt and they were bleeding all over him and begging him to save them.  ** But he failed! ** He failed, he failed,  ** he failed, ** and they were all dead and they were screaming at him to save them and protect them and how much of a fucking  ** failure ** he was, what a terrible husband, what a  ** bad father, ** couldn’t even protect them, couldn’t even save them, it was his fault, all his fault. _

_ They were dead because of  ** him. ** _

*

Matt flipped the page slowly. He found the first line at the top of the new page with ease. He would have to remember to thank Tony again; the genius had made it his mission to make the complex and all its amenities as accessible to Matt as possible. That, had included having the entire library scanned into a database, from which Matt could print out any book in the selection on the braille printer Tony had also installed for him. Matt had gotten more reading done in the last few months that he had since college!

“Mister Murdock?” Friday piped up.

Matt rested his fingers over where he was on the page, turning his head minutely towards the speaker the AI’s voice had come from.

“Yes, Friday, what is it?” he asked, smiling.

He happened to find Friday to be excellent company, and often had many interesting conversations with her.

“I think you should get to the common room as fast as you can.” she informed him quickly. “Mister Castle fell asleep on the couch, and he seems to be in a state of distress.”

Matt threw his book closed, hurrying off his and Frank’s bed.

“I tapped into the pulse measuring feature of his watch,” Friday added, while Matt was already rooting through the bookcase. ”-and I think the current measure is definitely cause for concern.”

_ “Shit!” _ he cursed, the door slamming behind him as he left. “Thanks, Friday! Tell everyone to stay away from him!  _ I’m on my way!” _

*

_ Why were they shouting at him like that? _

_** He tried!  ** He had tried so hard, he had tried to save them, all of them, but he failed, he fell short, he couldn’t do it, and they were so angry at him. _

_ He was angry too, he was so  ** weak, ** he couldn’t even help the people he loved, what good was he? What good was he to the world if he couldn’t even protect the people he loved so dearly? _

_ Their bodies lay in his arms and they felt so heavy, Matt and Maria staring up at him with cold eyes, and Lisa and Junior clawing at his arms and crying and begging him to  ** make the pain go away ** and he couldn’t do it! He was too weak, he wasn’t fast enough to save them, to protect them. _

_ Bullets rained over him and the sand whipped across his skin, and all the guys in his unit were yelling too and they stood over him,  ** spitting ** on him because how could someone so weak ever be their friend,  ** their brother, ** how could someone so weak even be allowed to  ** live ** any longer? _

*

Something was wrong with Castle, and Bucky could sure as hell see it. Castle had crashed on the couch in the living room for, what? Maybe twenty, thirty minutes now? And that was  _ fine, _ it was whatever.

But Castle had curled into a little ball on the far end of the couch. He was all drawn together, face hidden in his arms. He shivered now and then, shaking his head to himself. He mumbled too. Bucky couldn’t make out what he was trying to say. The sweat had soaked through Castle’s black t-shirt, and it didn’t look like this was going to pass on its own any time soon.

Bucky knew this, he could see what was happening. The dreams...he had them too. PTSD, the doctors said. He couldn’t let Castle be stuck in a dream that was obviously terrifying as hell. Bucky knew what that was like, and he wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

“Castle?” Bucky said as he leaned over, reaching his hand out to shake the man. “Hey, you gotta wake up, Cast-“

_ “Mister Barnes! Don’t-“ _

Friday? Why was she yelling?

*

_ Their hands were on him and holding him down and they were beating him and kicking him and the pain was unbearable. _

“You gotta wake up, Cast-“

_ Shut up! _

He threw himself at his attacker, had to stop them, had to fight, had to kill and save everyone. Felt his elbow make contact with a skull, then his hands gripping the fabric of clothes, and his fists hitting the Enemy’s face. Had to fight and kill and survive and live so he could  _ protect. _ A soft throat under his hands and they closed tight around it, could feel the flesh giving under the pressure and the hard ridge of the larynx under his thumbs, just had to kill and crush and destroy so he could  _ save and protect _ , couldn’t let them take everyone away again, couldn’t let them die, he had to save them.

*

Bucky wasn’t even fighting it. He had a tight grip on Frank’s wrists, trying his very hardest to get any air he could, but he wasn’t trying to fight Frank off. Matt could hear the soldier’s larynx groan under Frank’s hands.

_ “Frank!” _

Matt leaped over the low coffee table. He got his arms around Frank’s body, tackling him off Bucky. They fell over the side of the couch, Frank roared and he was already trying to fight for survival, Bucky gasped for air and coughed roughly.

Frank had wrestled himself out of Matt’s arms before they even hit the floor. He was on his feet, ready to fight. The marine’s heart raced. He smelled like adrenaline and fear, and the stench was so heavy Matt could almost choke on it. Matt hurried to his feet. He kept his distance from Frank, wary of his raised fists.

The others were flooding into the common room. Steve ran to Bucky’s side, and he smelled like anger when he seemed to understand what had happened. Every heart in the room was racing and pounding with fear and confusion.

_ “Frank! _ Frank, listen to me.” Matt tried desperately. “It’s me, baby. It’s Matt, I’m here. You’re safe, it’s okay, you’re safe here.”

*

All these people, their faces were dark and mean and he could almost smell the  _ hate _ on them. They hated him and they would kill him if they had the chance, he had to stop them, had to survive, had to live so he could protect everyone, his family and Matt and the team and everyone, and no one would blame him anymore, he wouldn’t be weak if he could just protect them.

The pale shape was coming at him, hands up, he was going to hurt Frank and if Frank was hurt, he couldn’t do his job. Had to kill the pale one, had to kill it and survive.

_ “Frank! _ Frank, listen to me. It’s me, baby. It’s Matt, I’m here. You’re safe, it’s okay, you’re safe here.”

What was he saying? Frank couldn’t understand him, the words were muffled and distant and in a language he didn’t speak. Threats! Threats to him and everyone he loved, had to protect them!

It felt good to hit him; felt good to know he was protecting everyone.

*

Matt wasn’t angry that Frank punched him. He didn’t blame Frank for it. He knew it was the dreams. The dreams were distorting everything for him, Matt knew that. He’d seen Frank like this a hundred times before. He just had to get him to calm down.

He staggered back at the second punch. Frank didn’t follow. The marine backed himself against the wall, breathing going haywire. His fists were still up, but it didn’t seem like there was much fight left in him. His heart was staggering, the stink of adrenaline was getting worse and worse, and if he didn’t calm down soon, he’d pass out!

“The book!” Matt shouted, pointing towards where he had thrown it.

He had had to throw it, drop it and run so he could keep Frank from doing something they’d all regret.

“Over here!” Thor said.

Matt caught the book when Thor tossed it to him. Matt felt over it; there was a tiny little scratch across one side, he found it easily. He held it up quickly, showing Frank the side with the scratch, the front cover.

“Look!” he said. “See this, Frank? Remember this?  _ One Batch, Two Batch? _ You know this, right?”

Frank was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.

“It’s Lisa’s favorite book! Remember? You used to read it to her every night.” Matt told him.

Those memories, memories of the good times he supposed they could be called, always helped to calm Frank down. Brought him out of the dark place and into the good place, the place where Maria and the kids lived, where Matt lived, where all the things Frank loved lived.

“You’d tuck her into bed, and you’d read it to her as many times as she wanted. A-And you said she always loved looking at the pictures, even before she could read on her own. And you used this book,  _ this book, Frank,” _ he talked, hoping to God Frank could  _ hear _ him. ”-to teach her to read! By the end of it, you could repeat it by heart and Lisa could too, but you’d still read it to her every night and look at the pictures together.”

*

_ Lisa? _

Lisa, Lisa, Lisa, Lisa...

“One batch, two batch.” the pale shape of a person said.

It was holding something, a thing with a lot of bright colors and letters, and Frank wanted to know what it was but he couldn’t make out the letters or the picture, everything was spinning too much.

“Penny and dime.”

What did it say? The pale shape, what did it say?

“One batch, two batch, penny and dime.”

*

“One batch, two batch, penny and dime.” Matt said softly.

Frank was shaking his head, hands rubbing anxiously at his face and body. He had to lean against the wall to stay on his feet; his knees quivered, on the verge of giving out.

“Just listen to my voice, baby. Just listen to me. One batch, two batch, penny and dime. I’m right here with you, Frank. You’re safe here. One batch, two batch, penny and dime.”

Frank slid down the wall to the floor. He drew his legs up close to his body, curling himself together as tightly as he could, as if he could avoid the world if he just got small enough. He held his hands to his head, pressing his knuckles into his skull as hard as he could.

“Can you say my name?” Matt asked, lowering himself slowly to his knees to stay on Frank’s level. “If you can recognize me, try to say my name.”

*

Things were spinning all around him.

The pale shape of a person was sliding into focus. It’s face became clearer with each second, it seemed like.

Who was that? He knew that face, knew its face, loved it like hell.

“Matt...?”

Was that his voice? He sounded so wrong. Heavy and rough and scratchy. Didn’t sound good, sounded wrong somehow, it wasn’t right, he wasn’t supposed to sound like that.

*

“That’s right, baby. I’m right here.”

He shuffled a little closer. Frank didn’t seem to mind that too much.

“It’s Matt. You’re safe here. You had a dream, a very bad dream. But it’s okay now. The dream’s over, and  _ you’re safe now.” _

He moved closer again. He had to take it slow. If he didn’t, Frank could take it as a threat, without meaning to.

“Just look at this book, Frank, and remember. Remember Lisa? Remember reading this to her?”

*

Matt...Matt was talking at him, and his voice was kind of loud and distorted but it was Matt’s. It was hard to understand what he was trying to say.

The book, he was holding a book. Frank knew that book. God, he knew it by heart, could repeat it backwards and forwards in his sleep.

“Say it with me, baby.” Matt said, his voice echoing in Frank’s head. “One batch.”

“One...one ba-batch.” Frank tried.

He knew those words so well.

“Two batch.”

“T-Two batch...” he followed along.

“Penny and dime.”

Matt’s voice was like a light in the dark of night. In the black void of space, his voice was a star. A shining light that was so far away, but was pulling Frank into its orbit, to safety.

“Pen- Penny and dime.”

He flinched at coldness on his knees. He looked up, the book rested on his knees and Matt was holding it, looking at him with unfocused eyes.

“One batch, two batch.” Matt said again. “Penny and dime.”

Frank nodded, he nodded and nodded and nodded, because he  _ knew _ those words.

“One batch, two batch,” Frank repeated. ”-penny and dime.”

*

Frank snatched the book out of Matt’s hands. He held it to his chest and hugged it tight. He began to rock back and forth.

“One batch, two batch, penny and dime.” he mumbled to himself. “One batch, two batch, penny and dime.”

He didn’t flinch when Matt rested his hand on his arm.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, baby.” Matt whispered. “Keep breathing. Just keep breathing.”

He smelled the salt before he heard the sob. When he did hear the sob, though, his heart broke. Frank sounded wounded. Like everything inside him had been ripped out and put in his hands, like he had never been in this much pain before.

He didn’t fight when Matt wrapped his arms around him. He let Matt pull him to himself, and hold him close. Matt kissed his head, and hushed him gently.

“Breathe, baby, breathe for me.” Matt kept on, whispering as softly as he could. “It’s okay. I’m here, I’m with you. I’m right here. Say it with me again, baby. One batch...?”

“T-Two ba-batch. Pen- Penny and di-dime.” Frank choked out between his sobs and snivels. “One batch, two batch.”

Matt rocked with him, dried his cheeks with the sleeve of his sweater, ran his fingers along the scars on Frank’s head because he knew Frank liked the feeling.

The others stood all around. Steve’s scent wasn’t tainted by anger anymore. He smelled more like grief than anything else; the heavy super-soldier hormones made the shift impossible to miss. They said nothing. By now, they had all probably realized what happened, why Frank would lash out like that against Bucky and against, of all people,  _ Matt. _

The blind man wiped the blood from his nose, and kissed his husband’s head again.

** *  
**

** Part Two, Chapter Two **

 

Frank was across the complex, in their room, sleeping. It was a miracle Matt had been able to calm him down enough for that. Most times when he had a nightmare, or another PTSD-based reaction, it could be  _ days _ until he slept again. The longest Matt could remember Frank had gone without sleep after a nightmare was  _ a week. _ By the end of it, Matt almost had to fucking  _ sedate him _ just to get him down.

He wiped his nose, wetting the dried in blood and cleaning it out from his nostrils. He hoped there wouldn’t be any bruises. If Frank realized that he put them on Matt, he’d...God save him, he’d just break down again. He was perfectly alright with putting bruises on Matt  _ when Matt wanted them, _ but anything else...knowing for a single second that he caused Matt  _ unwanted _ pain, it killed him. It destroyed him.

“Hey.”

Matt didn’t turn around. He had to finish cleaning up. He had to be there with Frank. Nightmares begot nightmares.

“Captain.” he said still, sounding mildly nasally from the cotton swab blocking his nostril at the moment.

“Want some help?” Steve asked.

He was standing next to Matt by then. His head was turned to Matt, no doubt giving him one of those  _ kicked puppy _ looks he’d heard all about from Frank.

“I’m fine.”

“I know. I just...wanted to help.” the Captain tried lamely. “Is...how is he?”

“Asleep.”

He dried himself off with another cotton swab. His whole world smelled like saline and disinfectant. It almost made him sick.

“But...he’s okay. Or, he will be, at least.” Matt added, though. “Friday’s monitoring him. Said she’ll alert me if his heart rate picks up like that again. And, um...Bucky. How’s he?”

Steve crossed his arms tightly, sighing and weighing on his toes. “Black-eye, couple bruises, but...he’ll be okay.” he said. “And he’s not mad about it, or anything. He...gets it.”

Matt nodded. “I’m glad. Frank didn’t...he didn’t know what he was doing.” he tried to explain.

“Yeah, I know.” Steve said. “Bucky’s the same. It’s getting better for him, but...it still gets him sometimes. Got enough bruises of my own to attest to that.”

Matt let out a heavy breath. He scrubbed his hands over his face, rubbing at his eyes. He would guess he was about as exhausted as Frank was.

“But you...handled it well.” Steve continued softly. “You knew what to do. How to pull him out of it.”

“Yeah. I’ve had to do it before. It’s...tough. But he’s getting better too.”

Steve hummed. “He’s in therapy?” he asked.

Matt scoffed, shaking his head to himself. “Good luck getting Frank Castle to go to therapy.” he said.

Steve chuckled with him. “So how’s he do it then?” he asked after a moment. “Is it anything I can do for Bucky?”

_ Oh, Christ... _

“Depends. Do you and Bucky have sex with each other?”

_ “What?” _

The Captain’s heart rate spiked for a moment. Matt chuckled, busying his hands with packing up the first aid kit.

“No need for concern, Captain. Frank and I are married. You and God can save your tears.” he said. “Ever heard of something called BDSM?”

Steve cleared his throat. He was obviously a little uncomfortable with the topic of conversation.

“I mean...I’ve  _ heard of it. _ I guess.” he admitted. “But...I don’t know much about it.”

Matt hummed. “Well, if I was going to give you the whole lecture, we could stand here for hours, but since I don’t have that kinda time, I’ll put it simple.” he said. “When Frank starts feeling that... _darkness _ start to rear its ugly head, he comes to me. He takes on the role of the submissive and I become the dominant.”

“And...what does that  _ mean?” _

Matt was a little surprised. The good Captain actually sounded curious.

“It means that his sole purpose, his only reason for existing, becomes to follow my orders, and do it well. He gets to cut himself off from everything else in the world.” Matt explained in a soft voice. “He gets to just...exist. Without worrying, or being afraid, or thinking about anything at all. Because I’m his Master, and all that stuff? It becomes  _ my job. _ I help him let go of the pain and the darkness, by...taking over responsibility.”

Steve nodded slowly.

“That’s...I mean. I’m just...”  


Speechless.

Matt never though he’d see the day. Captain America, rendered speechless.

“Might sound... _odd, _ I’ll give ya that. But-“

 _ “No.” _ Steve interrupted. “Sorry. I just...it’s not odd. It...makes sense, honestly. Kinda. I mean, being able to  _ let go _ like that? Bet it’d do wonders for just about anyone.”

Matt’s hand found Steve’s shoulder, giving it a soft pat he hoped was as comforting as intended.

“If you’d like, we can talk more about it later.” Matt offered. “When...Frank is rested. Like I said, that was putting it in quite simple terms.”

The soldier nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I think...I’d like that.” he said. “To...learn about it, at least.”

Matt squeezed his shoulder in that way that always seemed to convey a supportive sentiment.

“I can clean up here.” Steve said then. “You should go. Be with him.”

The blind man offered the soldier a smile as thanks, before hurrying away. Frank needed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i blame [blackcoffeecastle](https://blackcoffeecastle.tumblr.com/) for this and you should too


	3. Part Three: Can't Read My Pokerface

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I have no fucking clue how poker works, and I only skimmed the wikipedia page, so...yeah, sorry for possible inaccuracies.

“Think you got it?”

Thor nodded, even though his brows were still furrowed with confusion. “I...believe so.” he said.

He inspected his cards closely. Frank could almost laugh. This was honestly not someplace he ever saw himself ending up; teaching a God to play  _ Texas Hold ‘Em_, with two fossils from the Army Surplus store, the Russian Mata Hari, and deaf Cupid.  _ That’s life, _ he supposed.

Frank threw a few chips in for the blind, after checking his hand. Natasha counted out enough chips to match, sliding them towards the pile in the center of the table. Thor hesitated for a few moments. He studied his cards like they were withholding some kind of secret from him. Finally, he made a face like he’d seen something less than appetizing, and raised the bet. Steve matched without a word, and Bucky smirked and raised. Clint huffed, frowning at the soldiers, but matched. It was quiet.

When the time came, everyone showed their cards. Not surprising anyone, Natasha grinned and swept the pot to herself. Steve gathered up the cards and started shuffling them up for a fresh hand. Frank sipped his beer as the cards were dealt out.

_ “I’m already bored.” _ Clint signed, and stuck out his tongue at no one in particular.  _ “Let’s play strip poker.” _

Natasha threw a potato chip at him from across the table, at which the rest of the guys laughed.

“What’s strip poker?” Thor asked, while inspecting his new hand.

“Like regular poker, except the one with the shittiest hand has to take off an item of clothing.” Clint said, shrugging. “It’s a lot more fun than regular poker.”

The God hummed as he drank from his bottle of beer. “Sounds interesting.” he said after lowering the bottle again. “Shall we play?”

Frank shrugged. “I’m down.” he said, and chuckled. “If the rest of ya’s got the stones for it.”

Natasha scoffed at him, tossing in the blind. “Got more stones in my left pinky, Castle...” she said. “I’m in.”

“Let’s do it.” Clint agreed as Thor matched the bet.

Steve let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes and shaking his head to himself while Bucky matched up.

“This isn’t going to end well.” he said, but matched as well. “I can feel it.”

Bucky chuckled, throwing his arm over Steve’s shoulders and jostling him playfully. “C’mon, Stevie! It’ll be fun!” he said.

The hand played on.

Everyone was a little surprised, no one more than the God himself, when Thor’s straight won him the hand, just barely beating Bucky’s three of a kind. Thor gladly took the pot, and smiled with glee as Clint, who had the lowest hand, kicked off his sneakers.

It was a lot more tense than Frank had anticipated. No one said much; settling for throwing side-eyes at each other as they sipped their drinks and chewed on their snacks.

Bucky got his vengeance on the next hand though, where his full house won the pot and Thor’s hand forced him to take off his sweater. Frank was a little thankful he himself had also happened to wear a few extra layers on the day. Wouldn’t want the game to run short. The thanks were in vain, though, when he was hit by a short losing streak; two hands in a row he had the worst cards. He piled his hoodie and plaid shirt on the floor under his chair.

Natasha fired off a wolf-whistle at him as he shrugged out of the plaid, revealing the black tank and his bare arms. He flipped her off, and she laughed. Karma had its eye on them it seemed, though, when on the very next hand, Natasha herself had to shrug out of her blouse and leave her in a tank of her own. Frank wolf-whistled right back at her, and only laughed when she, also smiling, kicked him under the table.

Steve was first to get topless, having worn only a t-shirt. And honestly, Bucky should have known better by then, than to laugh as Steve stripped, because on the very next hand, Bucky had to lose his shirt too. Frank wasn’t far behind, though he wished he had been. He swore as he scanned over the revealed cards and realized his were the worst of the bunch. But Frank played the game, and dragged the tank over his head and dropped it with the rest of his clothes. And just for the benefit of how Natasha  _ ooh-ed _ at him playfully, he made sure to flex a little extra.

“Alright, alright, Castle, settle down.” Steve scolded, but with a grin painting his face too. “Your turn to shuffle.”

Frank chuckled, flexing his arms and chest again. “Why? Lil’ ol’ me gettin’ you all hot an’ bothered, Spangles?” he teased.

At that, the whole table laughed.

It was a good time.

He and Matt had been living at the complex for a few months by then. It had been a little hard for Frank to...adjust. Living in such close proximity to so many people, the lack of privacy, the inability to get  _ five fucking minutes of peace and fucking quiet. _ It had bothered him. It  _ still _ bothered him, but...he was getting used to it, he supposed. And the gang seemed to be getting used to him and Matt living there, and, more recently, to knowing that he and Matt were an actual  _ Thing. _

Another slew of catcalls and whistles brought him out of his head, just in time to watch Natasha shimmy out of her jeans. She rolled her eyes at them as she sat down again.

“I will kick  _ all _ of your asses.” she huffed and took a long swig of her beer.

“And I would thank you for your time.” Frank hummed, while dealing out a fresh hand.

_ Should’ve shuffled more, _ he berated himself quite soon though, when he was forced to take off his boots, thanks to his crap hand.

“What the hell kinda socks are those?” Steve asked curiously, leaning over to look at Frank’s feet.

_ Oh, right. _ Frank had forgotten all about that. He was wearing stockings and panties. Right. Um. That was...going to be awkward.

But, he supposed as he considered his options for a moment, everyone at the table had already seen his dick, watched him bone the hell out of his husband,  _ and _ been witness to one of his PTSD breakdowns. How could  this _possibly_ be any worse?

So why the fuck shouldn’t he own it? Yeah, he liked to wear panties and stocking and garters. So what? Nobodies business but his own.

He smirked at the soldier, leaning back in his chair as the new hand was dealt to him by Natasha.

“Well, sailor, win another hand and maybe you’ll find out.” Frank hummed. “Far as I can tell, I’m only one hand away from givin’ you all the pleasure of watchin’ me drop my pants.”

It wasn’t much of a surprise when, on the next hand, everyone but Clint and Frank folded out. And it wasn’t much of a loss for Clint to shuck his t-shirt. Frank saw a trend arising, when again on the following hand, all but he and Thor folded out. He should’ve known better than to stick in the game with only  _ a pair _ to stake himself on. He was  _ easily _ crushed by Thor’s straight flush. Frank  _ seriously _ doubted that this was the God’s first time playing poker.

But, Frank was a man of his word. He threw back what was left of his fourth beer, and got up. All eyes on him, as he popped the button on his black jeans, and undid the fly.

Someone actually  _ gasped _ when he dropped his pants, at long last.

[Frilly, pink panties,](https://xdress.com/products/mens-frilly-garter-panty) with garter clips sewn into them, which were keeping his long black  [stockings](https://xdress.com/collections/mens-socks-and-hosiery/products/wet-look-lace-and-lace-up-stockings) up; the stocking were something Matt had once told him was called ‘the wet look’, meaning they looked kind of like latex without really being latex. Either way, Frank really liked this pair. He liked the lace at the tops, where the clips sat perfectly, and he liked the white ribbons lacing up the back and making bows on his calves. And they hugged his legs  _ just right. _

“I know, I know, they don’t match for shit.” he hummed as he took his seat again. “If I’d known I’d be showin’ off, I’d’ve  _ at least _ worn somethin’ matching.”

The rest of the players were silent for a few seconds, during which Frank took initiative and gathered the deck to shuffle up and deal.

“Are you...wearing panties?” Natasha asked,

All eyes ping-ponged from Frank, to her, then back again.

“Yes, I am, Tasha.” Frank responded with a grin, as he started dealing.

“But... _why?” _ Steve questioned.

Frank shrugged. “Because I am an adult bisexual man, who is comfortable and confident in both my sexuality and masculinity, which means I can wear  _ whatever the fuck I want. _ Plus, they’re comfy as hell, they make my ass look  _ divine, _ and I feel pretty. You got a problem with that, Rogers?” he explained, and threw an extra nasty look at the Captain at the tail end there.

Steve was quick to shake his head. “Nope. Just...curious.” he said.

“Good answer.” Frank told him, picking up his hand and inspecting the cards. “Comin’ from the guy with the leather gimp suit. Didn’t take you for the leather daddy type, Spangles, but hey, your best bud’s got a chromed up sex toy for an arm so guess I can’t be  _ too _ surprised.”

“Hey, _fuck you,_ Castle!” Bucky half-shouted across the table.

Frank snorted, eyes on his cards. “Yeah, _you wish,_ big boy.” he huffed.

Clint, who had been sipping his beer, snorted and choked as the fizzy drink shot out his nostrils. His eyes teared up, as he tried to laugh, choke, and cough all at the same time. Thor broke out laughing at that, pounding the table with a heavy fist, and it didn’t take the rest of them too long to get infected by it, and break out laughing too.

It was a good time.

*

“Whaddya say, Spangles?” Frank asked, smirking at the Captain. “Last one to keep your pants on. Sure you wanna keep playin’?”

They were the last on the hand. The others had long since folded out. As if to answer the question, Steve plastered on a smirk of his own and didn’t break eye-contact as he threw a handful of chips in the pot.

God, Frank really hoped his cards held up.

Steve showed his hand.

Frank did the same.

“Full house beats a flush!” Bucky declared with a smile a mile wide. “Drop ‘em, Stevie!”

Frank let out a gleeful laugh, drumming the table with his hands for a moment, as Steve sank a little in his seat.  _ But _ perish the thought of the Captain going back on his word! He was an honorable man after all, so while Frank raked in his winnings, he got up. Frank was sure to throw a few extra whistles the Captain’s way, as the man revealed his plain green boxers.

“Mister Castle,” Friday cut in. ”-I have a message from Mister Murdock.”

Frank was still chuckling, as he picked up the new hand he’d been dealt. “Lay it on me, Friday.” he said.

“Mister Murdock asks that you stop flirting like a, quote, two dollar whore, and that you remove your stockings and gag yourself with them, and make your way to your shared quarters.” Friday informed. “He is awaiting your prompt arrival.”

The marine hummed, taking a swig from his beer. “Well, you can tell Murdock, that the last time he wanted to gag me with my stockings, he put runs all through ‘em and I like these ones way too much to let him ruin ‘em.” he said. “And even  _ if _ I was a whore, I’d be much too expensive for his broke ass to afford.  _ And _ he can wait all he likes, ‘cause I’m busy. You’re up, Thor.”

The God threw in for the blind, before Friday spoke again.

“Mister Murdock asked me to tell you that unless you get to your quarters in two minutes, he will start repeating the Hail Mary on the speakers.”

Frank froze, eyes narrowing.

“He wouldn’t.”

“Mister Murdock assure me the most  _ certainly _ will.”

Frank threw his cards down. He shoved his stacks of chips in Natasha’s general direction.

“I quit, you win!” he said as he got up.

“Wait, what?” Bucky said, while Frank was snatching up all his clothes from the floor. “The Hail Mary?”

The marine stopped. He sighed.

“Don’t...just do me a favor, and  _ don’t ask.” _

He stepped into his boots and took off towards his and Matt’s room, leaving the others  _ quite _ confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hail Mary thing is, of course, a reference to an earlier work in the series, 'Forgive Me, Father, fore I Have Sinned'.
> 
> I have the next chapter for this thing already written up, but I still have some editing to do, so you can expect another chapter today, maybe tomorrow. We'll see how busy real life keeps me! <3


	4. Part Four: Diva of the Damned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tile from:  
> Sex Metal Barbie, by In This Moment
> 
> most of the clothes i’ve linked pictures of, are in women’s sizes and shit, but let’s pretend they’d still fit matt ok? the power of imagination!!

Frank was glad to be home.

Still didn’t _quite_ like that  _ home _ was the Avengers complex, not Matt’s apartment, but he couldn’t deny Matt a  _ goddamn _ thing. All it took was one  _ please _ from him, and Frank accepted the offer to join  _ the merry band of idiots. _

He was glad Friday said Matt was home too. Frank had been away on mission for a lot longer than planned. A three day operation turned into two weeks, and he was apparently not allowed to call home in that entire time. If it was just the three days,  _ like he had been promised, _ it would’ve been fine. But two weeks?

He was tense as hell; things had started getting  _ cloudy _ in his head after the first week. Didn’t get any better with the second. He needed  _ Matt, _ needed to disconnect, needed to bow down and worship and let go of everything else. Needed to be  _ owned _ by the collar around his throat, be  _ tamed _ by the cane on his back, be  _ subjugated _ with his face pressed into the dirt. Needed to  _ breathe _ again.

“Castle.”

Frank groaned internally. What the hell did  _ Stark _ want? Frank had to find Matt. Had to find him soon, before the shaking in Frank’s hands got any worse. But he knew Stark was an annoying little  _ shit _ who wouldn’t stop bitching and moaning until Frank actually heard him out; so Frank stopped to listen.

“What?”

Hm, he didn’t sound like himself. Not good.

Stark snorted. “Wow,  _ alright, _ grumpy.” he huffed. “What crawled up your ass and died?”

Frank resisted the urge to knock Stark out. Would’ve been easy. Left hook maybe, put him out like a light for a while. Long enough for Frank to get back in order maybe. Didn’t do it, though. Managed to squeeze his fist tight enough in his jacket pocket to keep from doing it. After that shit in the gym a couple months back, people were still eyeing him for his  _ violent displays against teammates. _ But they all seemed to forget that Matt  _ asked _ for the pain, and he gave  _ just _ as good as he got. Still, Frank gladly took the heat and the scrutiny, if it kept it off Matt. And by now, most of the team had a pretty good idea about what went on in their bedroom,  _ not that it was actually any of their goddamn business. _

Stark rolled his eyes when Frank didn’t answer. He turned on a heel and headed for the common room, gesturing Frank to follow.

“Wanted your thoughts on the plans for the new gym.” Stark explained as they walked. “Wanna accommodate everyone’s needs.”

“Can it wait?” Frank gruffed. “I’m fuckin’ exhausted.”

“You look it, big guy.” the engineer snarked, tapping at his smart watch. “But it’s gotta get to the construction guys by tonight. We already delayed it once. Rogers wanted you to have a say too.”

Frank sighed. Fine. Fine, fine,  _ fine! _ He just had to look at the plans, give a thumbs up, then find Matt. It’d be five minutes,  _ if even that. _ He could endure five minutes.

A few of the others were in the common room too, when Frank and Stark walked in. Rogers, Thor, Barton, Barnes, Romanov; the usual crowd. Frank didn’t bother answering their half-hearted greetings. He followed Stark over to the TV. There, Stark tapped his watch again and the plans popped up on the TV screen. Hm, nothing too out of the ordinary. Well. Not unexpectedly so, at least. With gods and super soldiers, they did need some gear that could be called in-ordinary. But it looked good enough for a regular old human like Frank.

“Looks good.” he said. “Can I go?”

“Only if you promise to keep that sunny disposition.” Stark said with a grin.

Frank’s resolve was about to break, and his knuckles begged to be introduced to Stark’s jaw. He stopped himself, though, when he heard a sound he knew very,  _ very _ well; the rhythmic clack of stiletto heels. The cold sweat of anticipation broke out on his back, his breath hitched. Stark stared at him like he’d grown a second and third head. As the noise came closer and closer, the others looked up as well, equally confused by the look on Frank’s face. The wide eyes, the trembling lip, rapid blinks.

_ “Francis!” _

Frank dropped his duffel. He shrugged out of his jacket, and threw it aside. He turned towards the door, standing at attention like  _ a good marine, a good servant. _

Matt stormed in, heel-clacking echoing around him, but he stopped just inside the door. Fuck, he was gorgeous.  _ Where the hell to begin? _

[The boots,](http://www.yandy.com/8-Lace-Up-Stretch-Knee-Boot.php) black latex that climbed to his knees, with laces laced up tight, and heels taller than should’ve been legal.  _ Fuck, _ Frank loved [those tights,](https://xdress.com/collections/mens-socks-and-hosiery/products/worship-me-cross-net-tights) the black mesh fabric and the crosses  _ begging _ to be kissed and licked and worshiped. [The shorts](https://store.fetishfactory.com/product_details/183548/acacia_high_waisted_shorts.html?location=WG_1) looked almost as if  _ painted _ onto his skin, wrapped him up in glistening black latex that Frank wanted to  _ taste. _ The puffy sleeves and the buckle on the front and the tight neck of [that top](https://store.fetishfactory.com/product_details/177996/valerie_bolero_with_buckle_front.html?location=WT_2) made him look like a goddamn gift just waiting to be unwrapped.  _ Oh, God,_ [those gloves](http://www.yandy.com/Wet-Look-Bend-Over-Gloves.php)...leather, fingerless, with big, decorative studs, and white letters painted over the knuckles.

** BEND** , on the right.

** OVER** , on the left.

The letters were clearly visible and readable, when he gripped his riding crop in both hands. The leather of the crop creaked as it bent in his grip.

“Three days, Francis...” he said softly.

His lips were red as blood. Frank’s breathing hitched again.

“I know, Mistress.  _ I tried, _ bu-but it was o-out of my control.”

He flinched when the crop hit the wall. The noise of the leather made his insides flutter. He could already feel the bad begin to bleed away.

“Three days, Francis.”

Matt started coming towards him; the sound of the heels made him shiver. The folded leather end of the crop came to rest under his chin, making him lift his head.

“You said three days. You  _ promised _ three days. Imagine my confusion, Francis, when the day came, and there I was, all dolled up for you... _and you didn’t come home.” _

*

Matt adored how Frank folded for him.  _ The Punisher, _ begging for mercy and forgiveness.

He knew Frank needed this, too. After so long away, in the darkness of his work, he needed Matt take over for him, take over his brain and his body and push the darkness out. Matt knew that feeling.

He moved the crop away. Frank’s heart stuttered in fear, anticipating a lash somewhere,  _ anywhere, _ on his body. But Matt sauntered around him. Tony was staring at him. They all were. Yes, they knew about him and Frank; had known since that spectacle with the sparring match, and they knew to some extent what they did in their private time, but Matt supposed they simply hadn’t been quite prepared for...well,  _ this. _ Him, and Frank, like this. But their hearts were all racing; confusion, arousal, hints of fear. Tony’s aroused scent flared when Matt approached him. The scent was crisp. Clean and metallic. Very fitting. He caressed the pads of his fingers down along Tony’s face, from his temple to his chin, turning his head up.

“You made a promise, Francis.”

He dragged Tony to his chest. The engineer didn’t try to stop it, or get out, or do anything but let it happen. He let the side of his face be pressed to Matt’s chest.

“Then you broke that promise.” he hummed, petting Tony’s hair so softly and gently. “You just can’t  _ imagine _ how upset I was. I missed you  _ so much, _ baby.”

Frank keened, eyes screwed shut. “I missed you too, Mistress. Missed you so much. Missed worshiping you.” he pleaded.

Matt grabbed Tony’s hair, throwing him away. Tony staggered back. Matt turned his attention back to Frank. Someone hissed in sympathy when Matt stomped his heel down on Frank’s left calf. Frank grunted, knees folding, and he hit the floor on all four. Matt planted his foot on Frank’s ass and shoved him down again, to lay prone.

_ “Hands.” _

Frank extended his arms out, palms to the floor. Matt stepped around him. He placed the platform of one boot on a few of the fingers on Frank’s right hand, but applied no weight yet. He simply let the heel rest there, like a threat. But could it really be called a threat if Frank so desperately wanted it?

“You know what I want to hear, baby. And you best make sure I believe you.”

“Yes, Mistress.  _ I deserve this! _ I deserve to be stepped on, spat on! I exist to  _ worship! _ I exist to follow my Mistress’ orders, and to be grateful for the pleasure of doing so!”

_ “I don’t believe you, Francis!” _

Frank grunted and shouted at the pain, when Matt weighed on his fingers.

“I’m not even worth the time it takes my Mistress to punish me!  _ I’m worthless! _ My Mistress is  _ a god _ and I am  _ a believer!” _

Matt removed his weight, and stepped back.

“Not  _ good.” _ he said, Frank whined. “But decent enough, I guess.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” Frank groaned, flexing his hurting fingers to alleviate the pain. “Thank you.”

“Where’s your collar?”

It took Frank a moment to answer. He had to breathe deep, heavy and hard into the stone floor.

“Bag. My bag.”

Matt sighed. He tapped the toe of his boot against Frank’s head, a very light little kick.

“And what the hell are you waiting for?  _ Get it!” _

Frank scrambled up on his knees. He shuffled over to his bag without wasting even a second, and rifled through it until he could pull [his collar](https://www.bondagefetishstore.com/p/CSR-J523.html) out. Thick, heavy leather with a metal clasp on the back, and a ring at the front; Frank had told him the leather was a rich, deep brown in color, and the metal bits were nicely gilded. Subdued, but to the point. It fit so well around the marine’s throat.

Matt placed himself behind the man, who remained sitting back on his heels. There was enough room between the collar and his neck, for Matt to easily slip a few finger in and grab the collar tightly. With one knee bracing between Frank’s shoulder blades, Matt pulled on the leather. Frank gasped as it cut off most of his air. He clawed at the leather, but made no true effort to free himself.

“Here’s how this is going to go, Francis.” Matt said, casual as ever, while Frank struggled for air. “You’re going to crawl on your hands and knees from here to our bedroom. When we get there, you will  _ beg _ for forgiveness. Do a good enough job, and  _ maybe _ I’ll forgive you. Fail me again, and you will be punished accordingly. Understood?”

Frank’s breaths were rough and ragged. He nodded, to the best of his ability.

_ “Yes! _ Yes!” he choked out.

Matt let go of him. Frank fell forward, one hand at his throat as he gasped for air to enter his lungs again. Fuck, Matt could drown in that pungent, heady stench of lust and adrenaline, mixed with just the slightest hint of fear. He adored that scent, revered it like he would assume an addict did their drug of choice. It went to his head; he could float away on that scent.

“Oh, and Friday?”

“Yes, Mister Murdock?”

“Make sure our dear teammates can watch the security feed from our room, won’t you? I can tell they’re all just  _ dying _ for a show.”

“Sure thing, Mister Murdock.”

It was almost hard to find their scents under Frank’s, and their chorus of hearts behind Frank’s pounding drum. He  _ could _ smell them, though, and hear them. There was that enticing mix of arousal and fear again, pouring off each and everyone of their teammates present in the common room.

Matt gave Frank another shove, sending him prone again.

“Leave his things where they are. I’ll grab them later.” Matt told the team as an afterthought. “Come on, now, baby boy.  _ Get moving.” _

“Yes, Mistress.” the man said quickly, voice still rough.

He got up on all four again, and started crawling for the door. Matt smirked to himself,  _ what a good boy, _ as he lead the way. Frank hung his head low; he knew his place.

*

Matt kicked the door open when they reached his and Frank’s room. It hit the wall behind with a loud bang, another noise which made his slave flinch. So tense, so full of anticipation,  _ so excited. _

Frank crawled across the room; he measured carefully to leave a foot or two of space between his back, and the wall behind him. With him there, it left plenty of open space in the room to play with. He clasped his hands behind his back, and leaned forward until his forehead was almost touching the floor. Matt didn’t even have to say a word. They had done this long enough for them both to know the drill. And, of course, Frank knew not to disappoint.

Matt had to admit; it was a bit of a rush, to have his boy bowing  _ and _ an audience watching. He stood before them all, raised to the sky on his pedestal of high heels, like a God.

“Mute the mics for a moment, Friday, please. A word in private.”

“Mics are muted. What can I do for you, sir?”

“Tell me, Friday, who’s watching?”

His hands wandered along the length of his crop, feeling the leather under his fingertips, as she computed for a moment.

“Mister Stark, Captain Rogers, and Prince Thor are currently watching, Mister Murdock.” Friday informed. “Would you like me to inform you if more viewers join in?”

Matt smiled. “Please do. But mute the mics again before you do.” he said. “Their business is theirs to share with others. Not mine.”

“You got it, Mister Murdock. Should I unmute?”

“Yes, please. Thank you.”

“Mics unmuted.”

He turned to his beloved boy.

Frank still bowed, schooling his breathing carefully to stay calm.

“Tell us your safewords, Francis.”

He swallowed dryly a few times, trying to wet his throat so he could make words.

_“Green_ means _go.”_ he said finally. _“Yellow_ means _slow down._ _Red_ means _stop._ If...If I’m gagged, cough once for _stop._ Cough twice for _slow down.”_

“Good boy.”

The crop ran along his spine, from where his hands rested to his shoulders. He keened at the feeling, and at the praise. The Mistress took a seat on the foot of the bed, setting his crop aside for the moment. His heels tapped the floor slowly.

“Francis. You broke a promise to your Mistress. For that, I need an apology. How do slaves apologize for their mistakes?”

He crawled forward quickly, to sit at Matt’s feet.

“Like this, Mistress.”

He planted a kiss on the toe of Matt’s boot. He wrapped one careful hand around Matt calf, and slid the other into the gap between the heel and the platform, to cradle his foot. He kissed the boot again, and the platform, then stuck his tongue out. He dragged long, wet licks up Matt’s leg, all the way from the toe of the boot to the knee.

“I’m sorry, Mistress. I’m so sorry.” he stopped to say, before kissing the latex again. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

He licked the boot with quite some enthusiasm. He traced the laces with his tongue, and pressed more kisses to it now and then.

“I made a mistake, Mistress. I need to be punished for it. Please, punish me, Mistress. Punish me for my mistakes, Mistress.”

Matt jerked his leg free, and planted the platform on Frank’s forehead, shoving him back. Frank fell on his ass, but was careful to keep his head bowed as not to offend by looking his Mistress in the face.

“Listen to you beg...” he hummed. “You beg, and you beg, and  _ you beg, _ but you don’t tell me what it is you want.  _ Tell me what you want.” _

Frank whined, hips grinding into nothing. He wanted it bad, he was hard as hell, cock throbbing in his pants.

_ “Step on me. _ P-Please, Mistress. Step on me a-and let me taste your heels, Mistress. I wanna feel your heels on my body.”

Matt smiled. He got up again, and stood over Frank. He planted one foot in the center of Frank’s chest, shoving him down flat on the floor.

“Like this, you mean?”

He weighed on Frank’s chest, leaning forward slightly to give him mostly the platform. Frank groaned under it.

_ “Yes, _ thank you! Thank you, Mistress!”

“And like this?”

Matt tilted his foot back. The sharp point of the stiletto dug into Frank’s torso, right below the sternum, boring into nothing but flesh. Frank groaned again, deeper and louder, a mix of pain and pleasure that Matt knew well.

_ “Ah, fuck, yes, thank you, Mistress! Thank you!” _

Matt moved his foot; the heel stabbed into Frank’s ribs, making him whine with pain. He was beautiful like this, all broken down for Matt, begging for anything and everything. Frank groaned when Matt kicked him in the side, body jerking at the blunt pain but quickly relaxing again as not to displease his Mistress. Matt kicked him again, and again, in the side and the back. Frank accepted it gladly, groaning and whining at the feeling.

“Roll over.”

Frank shuffled over onto his chest as fast as he could, pressing the side of his face to the floor. He moaned like a fucking whore, when Matt stabbed his heel into the space between Frank’s shoulder blades. Matt rolled his ankle, slowly twisting the sharp heel into his slave’s back. The heel seemed like perfection as it dug into Frank’s lower back, and the platform stepping on his spine and pressing on his ribs. Frank keened, as the thick platform came to rest on his head. Matt ground the sole into his scalp, pressing him harder into the floor.

_ “Thank you, Mistress!” _ he grunted. “I love it!  _ I love it, Mistress!” _

“Do you know  _ why _ you’re on the floor, Francis?” Matt asked, casually toying with one of the studs on his gloves as Frank moaned softly.

“No, Mistress. Tell me, please, tell me why, Mistress.”

He pressed on his head again, and once more Frank groaned.

“Because it’s where you  _ deserve _ to be.” he said. “A disgusting fucking  _ whore _ like you? Where else would you be? You’re not good enough for anywhere  _ but _ the fucking floor.”

“I’m not good enough, Mistress! I’m a worthless fucking whore!  _ I’m your fucking slave, Mistress!  _ Please,  _ please, _ use me, Mistress.”

Matt exhaled a heavy sigh, as though all Frank was to him was a waste of time.

Frank loved it, and Matt knew it. He loved being used and abused, kicked and stepped on, insulted and spit on. And yes, when the roles were reversed, Matt loved many of the same things; it was the disconnection from the world that they needed. This...removal of all heavy things in their past. When they were Master and Slave (or Mistress and Slave, depending on how Matt was feeling on the day), all they had to think about was serving, or being served.

There was an electric tingle at the back of Matt’s neck, like eyes weighing and watching him. Knowing there were people watching, people who snuck away to privacy to watch like it was a shameful thing to do, people who might be getting off to it, people who might be getting off on Matt wrapping someone like the Punisher around his fucking finger...it was exhilarating.

“Mics muted. Mister Barton just asked to watch as well.” Friday chipped in.

“Thank you, love.”

“No problem.”

It was almost a shame that they wouldn’t be  _ participating. _ But, what Frank needed, was not a whole herd of other Submissives to  _ compete with _ for attention. Frank needed Matt’s full attention, his full focus, all the care Matt could give him.  _ But _ they didn’t have to be in the room, to be involved.

Matt removed his boot from Frank’s head. The slave whined softly, upset by the loss.

“Stand up, shirt off.”

Frank moved raptly. He was in position, having stripped himself of his shirt, in moments.

Matt threw open the closet. On the inside of either the double doors, they had mounted rows of hooks; on each hook, hung their collection of whips, canes, crops, and similar implements, on display. He hummed to himself, smirking. Who was to get the first pick?

“Friday, pick one of our viewers. Ask them which one I should start with.”

“One moment, please.”

There was a few second of silence. Matt listened intently to Frank, to his breathing and his heart. The tenseness in his body had diminished, but it was still there. But now, it was more from  _ expectation _ and _ excitement, _ than stress.

“Mics muted. Prince Thor suggests the left door, first row, second from the right.”

“And how many lashes?”

Another moment.

“Captain Rogers suggests twenty.”

“Thank you.”

Matt picked the cane off its hook and felt over it, to get a clear image of what he was working with. Hm, he knew this cane well; fiberglass, some twenty inches in length, a nice rubber handle to give a steady grip. This cane was a mean little thing. It delivered a kind of strike that few others among their collection could.

“Count for me now, Francis.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

He bowed his head low, and clasped his hands tightly in front of himself. A plastic-y  _ whap _ across Frank’s back, and an accompanying grunt of pain. He staggered forward for a second. He hurried back to his original spot, though. He didn’t want to disappoint, and Matt didn’t want to be disappointed.

“One.” he counted. “Thank you, Mistress.”

Frank grunted at the second lash as well, but he counted, loud and clear. He took his punishment with grace, thanking his Mistress for each rap.

*

“Sixteen. Thank you, Mistress.”

_ Fuck, _ it was good, it was so good. His back stung and burned worse with each hit. He loved how it felt, and he loved how humiliated he felt whenever he remembered that their teammates were watching.

They were watching him be a fucking whore, a disgusting, worthless skank, good for nothing but taking the punishment his Mistress thought he deserved. He could feel their eyes on him, on his back as each lash left long red marks.  _ Mh, _ felt so fucking good, showing them all what a fucking whore he was, what a good slave he was to Matt, how much he had  _ earned _ this collar and how Matt fucking  _ owned _ every inch of him, how much he loved begging to Matt and worshiping everything about Matt.

_ Whap! _

“Seventeen. Thank you, Mistress.”

_ Oh, fuck, that one was good, so fucking good, right at the slope of his back, right in the soft spot, Matt knew just where to hit to make it hurt so good. _

“Miss Romanov and Mister Barnes have started watching too.”

“Thank you, Friday.”

Frank never wanted to leave this room again. He never wanted to step outside that door, never wanted to take off his collar, never wanted Matt to take off those heels. Everything was so easy there. There was nothing bad there; there was just  _ serve, obey, be good and get rewarded. _ There was no consequence, no weight of the world on his shoulders, no innocents depending on him as soon as he left the complex, no team relying on him. There was just  _ be good and get rewarded. _ There was just  _ serve your Mistress. _

_ Whap! _

“Eighteen. Thank you, Mistress.”

With every lash, the world was stripped away and  _ Frank could breathe. _

_ Whap! _

“Nineteen. Thank you, Mistress.”

The pain made him feel  _ alive, _ made his body feel  _ real _ for the first time in God knows how long.

_ Whap! _

“Twenty. Thank you, Mistress.”

He turned his head into the gloved hand that pet his hair. He dried his cheeks quickly, wiping away the pained tears had sprung from his eyes.

“Good boy, baby.” Matt told him in a whisper. “Such a good boy.”

He moaned at just the words. God, yes, he was good, he did good, Matt was pleased with him.

“Did it feel good, baby?”

Frank nodded. “Yes, Mistress. Felt so good, thank you. Can I have more?” he asked. “Please, let me have some more.”

Matt smiled, petting his cheek. Frank could die at the touch; he felt so good, he deserved that touch, he deserved to be touched by his Mistress’ gentle hands, he had earned it.

“We’ll see.”

He stepped away.

Even though he knew it wasn’t exactly  _ allowed, _ Frank glanced over his shoulder now and then, watching his Mistress as he moved back to the closet. He disappeared out of sight, into the depths of the closet, and there came a strange rustling. Plastic clattering against plastic. Like...something rolling around in a box.

Box?

Box. The toy box. Matt was already bringing out the toy box? His punishment was already done?

“Take off your clothes, Francis.”

Frank kicked off his boots, dropped his pants and boxers, pulled his socks off, threw them all aside in a pile somewhere.  _ Fuck, _ his cock fucking begged to be touched, his insides pleaded for release. He could  _ feel _ the eyes of their audience on him, even though they weren’t even in the same room. Just  _ knowing _ he was being watched...God, he loved that shit. Their eyes made him feel like he was on fire; the embarrassment and humiliation and shame of being naked in front of all these people he was supposed to respect and work with and live with and have normal conversations with.

He watched Matt carry the toy box over to the bed. Matt searched through the box for a moment, but soon handed [a pair of cuffs](https://www.bondagefetishstore.com/p/BSR-J524.html) to Frank. They matched his collar, a part of the set. He put them on himself with ease, even behind his back; he’d had enough practice to do it in his sleep.

“Close your eyes.”

Frank did as he was told. The blindfold felt like satin. It was soft on his skin, it felt like heaven.

Matt moved behind him, heels clacking, toys rustling in the box.

“Open your mouth.”

Again, he followed orders. The ball gag was a familiar sensation when it slipped into his mouth. The buckle closed behind his head. He breathed slowly through his nose, getting used to his mouth being obstructed. He groaned at the fingers that started handling his cock. One after one, metal rings were threaded onto him, and slid into place along his length. A more  _ intricate _ cock ring, something more stimulating than the simple solo ring at the base.

A vibrator buzzed somewhere next to him. It was loud, sounded intense, sounded like it’d be rough to ha-

He grunted, breath punched from his chest, when the vibrator met his left nipple.

His legs shook, begging him to flinch away from the sensation, but he had been trained well. He stayed unmoving.

The vibrating  _ was _ intense. It was rough and hard and fast and  _ fuck, _ it felt like it was burrowing into his body and stealing the oxygen straight from his lungs. The bulbous head of the vibrator moved from the left nipples, to the right. He whined with every rapid breath.

“Are you a nipple whore, baby?”

Frank nodded quickly. He felt the drool start to drip from the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah?” Matt questioned, and he nodded again. “Yeah, you are. Love to get your tits played with, don’t you?”

He nodded again.  _ Yes, yes, yes, he fucking loved it, fuck, it was so good, he could cum just like that, just from that fucking vibrator toying with his nipples, he was such a whore for it, loved it so fucking much. _

“Yes, you do, baby. I know you do. You just love it, baby.” his Mistress answered for him. “Wanna show our viewers what  _ good _ nipple whores do? You know what good whores do, don’t you?”

_ Yes, yes, he knew what good whores did! He knew exactly what they did! _

The drool poured down his chin, he moaned into the gag,  _ fuck, _ it was good. He whined when the vibrator switched nipples again, and another time, when there was suddenly a mouth on the one that had been abandoned. He knew Matt’s lips, knew his tongue and his teeth, knew him right away.

Frank nodded like a goddamn mad man.

“Yeah? They cum  _ untouched, _ they cum  _ just _ from having their nipples played with.” Matt continued, letting up off his nipple for a moment to speak. “Can you do that? Can you be  _ a good boy _ for your Mistress and cum untouched?”

Again, Frank nodded.

They traded places, the mouth and the vibrator. He fucking  _ ached. _ In the wake of such intense vibrating, the soft lips and blunt teeth were like feathers running over his skin; where the lips and teeth had only teased, the vibrator was like a battering ram to his sternum.

The mouth disappeared, and the vibrator did too; Matt’s hot breath on his ear took over.

“You can do it, baby, show me how good you are.” the Mistress whispered. “Show me you’re a good boy.”

Something exploded in Frank’s chest; he gasped for air and almost choked on his own drool, body trembling and quivering as the orgasm washed over him. The rings on his cock made it feel as though something was trying to contain the explosion, push it down and keep it in. But it was too strong. The fire and brimstone blew past the meek attempt at containment, and somehow burned even hotter because of it. He whined so desperately for any kind of touch, for any contact, anything to make him real again because he felt  _ unreal, _ felt impossible when this perfection flooded him.

“Good boy.” Matt purred in his other ear.

He was everywhere all at once; he consumed Frank and Frank would thank him for it if he could speak.

Frank’s knees folded.

He managed to not collapse right away, but instead lower himself slowly to the floor, knees trembling. He bowed to his Mistress again, forehead almost resting on the cold floor.

“What a lovely, pretty boy you are, Francis.”

Frank’s chest was covered in his own saliva, having dripped from his mouth; he could feel it, cold and wet, sliding slowly down across his belly. His jaw kind of ached but it was a  _ good _ ache. It felt good to have the ache, because he was a good boy and he got this ache while proving that fact.

Still, he gladly spat the ball out when the buckle was undone, and breathed unobstructed.

“Th-Thank you.  _ Thank you, Mistress. _ Thank you.” he said, between breaths as deep as he could manage. “Thank you.”

He moaned as he felt his Mistress’ boot on his back; it simply rested there, the point of the heel was like the most beautiful threat. It wasn’t  _ much _ of a threat, though. It burrowed into him a moment after finding its place. He grunted, the pain of the heel digging into his flesh and stabbing at the soft parts of his side.

“You did so good, baby.” Matt said, voice swelling with pride. “But you’re not done yet.”

The boot was removed. He whined at the loss,  _ why was it gone, he loved it there, loved it pushing him into the dirt where he belonged. _

“Sit up, baby.”

It took all the strength Frank had to pull himself up off the floor, to hold his head high for Matt. He almost wished Matt would take the blindfold off him. He wanted to see what he had done, the cum staining the floor and the drool on his chest and probably the lipstick smudged around his nipples.

Matt didn’t, though. He left it on.

“Are you grateful to our viewers, baby? For watching you?”

Frank nodded. His face burned hot, he could almost  _ feel _ how red his cheeks were.

“So grateful, Mistress...”

He hiked forward when Matt beat him upside the head.

_ “Then thank them!” _ Matt ordered, and sighed to himself as he walked away. “Fucking useless...”

Fuck, Frank could barely breathe. It was indescribable. All these eyes on him, watching him be the whore he truly was, the spit running down his chest, his cock aching for  _ more, _ and his body still humming with the aftershocks of orgasm, the burning pain on his back.

_ “Thank you. _ Thank you for watchin’ me. Thank you, thank you for watchin’ me be a disgusting whore, who worships at the feet of my Mistress.”

The breath hitched in his throat when his hair was suddenly grabbed, head dragged back by it to expose his throat. He felt the sharp edge of a blade slide over his Adam’s apple. There wasn’t enough pressure to break the skin, but  _ oh, fuck, _ he could almost feel the pain already.

“What a good boy...”

He had to swallow; his mouth watered so much it was a miracle he didn’t drool all over himself again. The blade felt  _ so damn good _ on his throat as it moved when he swallowed. In no time at all, the blade moved from his throat to his chest, making a long cut along his left collarbone. He hissed at the pain, and moaned at the burn.  _ God, it was a good burn. _ He could feel it in his whole body; the sharp sting that shot straight to his cock, making him ache with  _ need. _

Matt’s hand moved, from Frank’s hair to the collar. He gripped it tight, knee digging into the marine’s back, and pulled. The knife slid across his chest, cutting into him over and over. The dark world was booming around him, the lack of oxygen making his head spin, and the sting of the knife was electrifying. The mix was euphoric; it was just... _euphoric. _ The suffocation made him fly and the cuts dragged him back to the ground. How they mixed, it made him float somewhere right in the middle and he never wanted to leave that perfect place.

Air rushed back into his lungs when his collar was released. His head fucking _ exploded _ with the rush of oxygen. The blood pounded in his ears, heart stomping at his ribcage, wrists tugging restlessly against the cuffs, body rolling forward to find the blade. He gasped for breath. It was a beautiful, beautiful,  _ beautiful _ set of seconds where instead of floating, he was rocketed into space.

“Such a lovely, pretty boy...” Matt whispered in his ear. “Tell me what you want.”

Frank’s throat felt like sandpaper.

“You...your cock, wan’ it, fu- fuck me. Please...please, Mis- Mistress.  _ Gimme cock.” _

“Oh, baby...”

The voice was right next to his ear, one hand petting his hair. He could feel the heat of Matt’s body behind him and above him.

“Baby boy, my lovely baby boy. So good, so beautiful,  _ mh, _ you smell divine, baby. I could just  _ eat you up.” _

_ Yes... _

Eat him up? That mouth, that pretty mouth with the blood-red lips and the tongue blessed by God and all the fucking Saints and Angels...yes, that mouth, he wanted that mouth.

_ “Please..._I’m- I’m a...dirty whore for...for oral.  _ Mistress_...please. Gimme your mouth...please.”

He felt those lips against his cheek, and he could just  _ die,  _ they felt so good.

“Maybe later.”

Frank whined, but said nothing. Couldn’t argue with his Mistress. He knew best. He knew what Frank needed, knew what Frank wanted, knew what was best for him,  _ Frank trusted him. _

He was made to spread his legs, staying on his knee but widening the space between them. Bare hands ran over his back, Matt had removed his gloves.  _ Oh, shit, _ nails dragging over the marks from the cane...his skin ached and burned. A bottle popped as it was opened somewhere next to him, the vibrator turned on again.

A  _ humiliating _ noise left him when the vibrator met the head of his cock. His whole entity shook with it, but he stayed unmoving, unflinching.  _ Couldn’t disappoint. Had to be good, had to put on a good show. _ The vibrator moved from the tip; it slid down his length, running over each ring so painfully slow. Whenever it touched a ring, the vibrations moved his whole body. He could feel them echoing throughout his entire being, not just his cock. He whined, a pathetic noise from a pathetic little whore,  _ how fitting. _

His body tried to fold over itself and melt into a pool on the floor; he resisted as best he could. His chest heaved, his gut was so tight, he did something close to convulsing. The vibrator crept around the base of his dick, sliding down to caress his balls.  _ Oh, shit, fuck, fuck, shit, Jesus, fuck. _ His insides tightened around themselves, he couldn’t describe that feeling in a thousand years, the feeling of that fucking vibrator drawing nonsense patterns over his balls, touching at the bottom-most ring now and then.

Wet fingers slipped between his cheeks;  _ oh, fuck, yes, oh, God, yes, fuck. _ They slid over his rim, he gasped for air and he felt amazing tears start to soak the blindfold.

He wailed as two fingers entered him without much more pretense.  _ Oh, shit, fucking fuck, thank you, thank you, fuck, yes, thank you. _ He wished he had enough brainpower left to talk and tell his Mistress how fucking amazing this was. He was soup, just utter  _ soup; _ there wasn’t a bone left in his body, his brain was mist, and all that existed was the residual pain and perfect pleasure.

“You wanna cum, baby?”

_ God, yes! _

He nodded and nodded and nodded,  _ yes, he wanted to cum again, wanted it so bad, it felt so good, couldn’t understand how it was so good. _

Matt hummed.

The vibrator moved up along the underside of his cock; it slid tortuously slowly over each ring. Another finger pushed inside him.

“Cum for me, baby.”

The vibrator ran over the head, right over the slit, and he couldn’t keep it in even if he’d wanted to. He exploded again.  _ What noise was that coming out of him? _ A desperate, gasping, sobbing wail. The blindfold felt like it was soaked through with tears; his body seemed to shatter into a million pieces. The collar tightened around his throat again. The air he gasped for lay tantalizingly out of reach. He was somehow suspended, frozen at the perfect peak of euphoric climax. The feeling ripped through his body. It seemed to last for hours.

Matt released the collar, and air filled Frank’s lungs again, oxygen feeding the fire. Spots of blinding light danced in his eyes, even blindfolded as he was; it felt like he was on the very verge of passing out.

“You’re such a  _ good boy, _ such a lovely boy. So good for me, baby.  _ You’re so good for me.” _

He was good. He did good. Matt was pleased with him, he pleased his Mistress.

The silky touch of the blindfold disappeared. For a moment, when he opened his eyes, the world was still black. His brain was too addled to see. Things slowly started to become visible again, though. It took a second, but it got there. It was all still blurry and fuzzy around the edges, but he could see Matt standing before him. Like turning the focus dial on a camera, everything became sharp and clear. Matt became the sole focus of his vision, somehow almost physically surrounded by a halo of shining white light.

There was a hard bulge in those latex shorts. He could see the outline in the tight fabric as clear as day. He wanted to  _ taste it. _ Wanted to slide his tongue along that line, taste the rubbery latex and revel in the flavor.

Matt stepped around him. [The link](https://www.bondagefetishstore.com/p/BSR-J529.html) between Frank’s cuffed wrists was disconnected, untying them from each other. Matt came to stand before him again. Frank looked up, staring at his Mistress like  _ he was the one and only God there was to know. _

“Are you a good boy?”

Frank nodded, trembling hands finding the floor, to support him.

“Y-Yes. I’m...I’m good. I’m a good boy.  _ Mistress.” _

“Prove it.  _ Worship me.” _

Frank kissed the toes of either boot. His tongue tasted the laces and the latex as he licked over each boot, one at a time. He pressed desperate kisses to Matt’s legs, hands sliding over the fishnets and the woven crosses. He swiped his tongue over each cross he found too, had to show how much he loved them, loved his Mistress.

_ “I’m yours, Mistress. _ Yours, all yours.” he said, voice rough and raw, as his hands trailed up those muscular thighs.  _ “Always yours. _ Your boy, your servant, your slave,  _ all yours. _ Belong to you. You  _ own _ me, Mistress.”

Like he had so dearly wanted, Frank could feel the hard line of his Mistress’ cock with his tongue. A swell of pride in his chest, when he pressed the tip of his tongue to the head and his Mistress  _ moaned. _ He did that. Frank did that to his Mistress, made his Mistress feel good. Fingers ran through his hair. He shivered at the gentle touch.

It took every ounce of strength Frank had in his body to get on his feet. His knees quivered and he felt dizzy as hell, but Mistress knew best, knew when it was enough, knew what he needed.

His mouth wandered up the latex, hands following along over those slim hips. With his teeth, he tugged lightly at the buckle on the front of his Mistress’ top. The Mistress chuckled softly, petting his head. Matt moaned again as Frank’s tongue moved to one of his nipples. He teased at the pert, pink flesh, hardening it slightly. Then he moved to the next, hands still feeling over his Mistress’ waist and hips.

Just as his teeth were to close softly over the now perked nipple, Frank’s hair was grabbed again. With legs as unsteady as those of a newborn calf, he was easy to throw to the floor. He grunted lowly at the pain of the fall, and again at the kick that was landed to his side. Matt grabbed his hair once again and dragged him along for a short distance. Frank found himself with his face inches from a few droplets of his own cum on the floor. If his head had been clearer, he would almost have been impressed with himself; he got  _ some _ distance on it, ropes of white streaking the dark floor.

“Clean that up.” Matt hissed as he let Frank go.  _ “Fucking animal.” _

Frank had to breathe for a second, collect himself just a little, before getting to work. The floor tasted like plastic and dust; he ignored the bitter saltiness of the cum, never liked the taste all that much.

“You’re  _ disgusting.” _ Matt said, standing over him. “I treat you so good and  _ still _ you make such a fucking mess.  _ Ungrateful bitch.” _

Frank’s whole body was trembling. The tears stung his eyes. He made a mess, and he upset his Mistress;  _ he was right, Frank was disgusting and ungrateful, couldn’t even keep the fucking floor clean. _

“I-I’m sorry, Mis- Mistress. Sorry, sorry.” he said quickly, stopping his cleaning only for a moment. “I’ll...I’ll clean it. I’ll do- do better.”

_ “I fucking hope so.” _

Heels clicked and clacked across the floor, latex squeaked, some kind of fabric sounded like it was being ripped apart.

His face was shoved down into the floor again. He could feel the cum smudge across his cheek. Hands grabbed at his hips, a sharp knee shoved his apart and spread him. His Mistress’ cock slid into him with only  _ some _ resistance.

_ “Fuck!” _ he cried, at both the pain of the sudden stretch and the perfection of  _ finally _ feeling his Mistress inside him.  _ “Fuck! _ Fuck,  _ oh, God, _ fuck!”

_ “Did I say you could speak?!” _

The leather crop landed across his back. All he could do was claw at the floor and whine, tears pouring down his cheeks.  _ It was so fucking good. _

“I’m sorry!”

“Clean up your mess!”

Another strike of the crop and a hard thrust into him, had Frank seeing stars.

_ “I’m sorry!” _

He lapped at the floor desperately.  _ Fuck, his Mistress was fucking him so hard, it was so mean, so cruel, so good. _

“What are you?!” Mistress shouted, punctuated with another lash.

_ “An ungrateful bitch!” _ Frank whined. “A whore, a fuckin’ animal!”

_ “Again! _ What are you?!”

Another lash.

_ “An ungrateful bitch! Ah! Fuck!” _

He could barely hear anything over the slapping of skin that came with his Mistress’ every hard thrust into him, nor over the sharp  _ thwack _ of the crop on his back, which seemed to blindside him every single time.

“Aw, does it  _ hurt, _ baby?” Matt asked, voice mocking, but straining with the violent motions of his hips. “Does it hurt your  _ little sissy ass _ to get fucked like this? Huh?  _ Does it?!” _

_ “Yes! It hurts! Hurts, Mistress!” _

_ “Too! Fucking! Bad!” _

This time, he punctuated each  _ word _ with a lash.

“It’s what you deserve!  _ Isn’t it?! _ Huh? To get fucked so hard it fucking hurts!” he continued. “It’s all whores like you are good for! Ungrateful  _ little bitches _ who need to learn their fucking place!”

_ Too much, it was getting to be too much, couldn’t take it much longer! _

Fuck, his cock  _ hurt _ he needed to cum so bad! His whole body  _ burned _ with humiliation and shame and guilt, and  _ holy fucking Christ, _ he could feel his third orgasm of the night coming right at him like a fucking freight train, it was going to crush him and tear him to pieces when it hit, he could feel it. There was this  _ tightness _ in his gut and his chest, his head swam with clouds and mist, his cock bobbed against his stomach with Matt’s thrusts and dotted his skin with precum, those fucking rings felt like they’d been held under a blowtorch for a fucking  _ hour _ before being put on his cock.

“You wanna cum, baby? You wanna be a good bitch for me, and cum on my cock?” Matt questioned, nails clawing down Frank’s back. “You gonna fucking cum again, like a fucking  _ whore?” _

_ “Ah! Yes! Yes! Please! Wanna cum! Please! Lemme cum! I can’t- I’m gonna- Fuck! Please!” _

“You don’t cum until  _ I’m _ done with you!”

_ No, no, no, he needed it, needed it now, couldn’t take it much more, he was going to fucking die. _

“Ah, ah, fuck,  _ Mistress, _ Mistress,  _ please! _ Ah, fuck, yes!”

He could thank God when he heard his Mistress groan behind him, thrusts staggering. He knew that sound, loved that sound, worshiped that sound; that sound was his Mistress cumming, because of  _ him. _ He whined softly at the slick slide and the loss, when Matt pulled out of him. He felt the cum spurt onto both his marred back and his abused hole, as Matt moaned.

His collar was grabbed again; he was forcibly turned onto his back. His legs spread almost instinctively at the position,  _ what a fucking whore, knew just what his place was. _ He was crying when gentle fingers tugged on the rings on his cock. One by one, they slipped off his length; it was like an orgasm without an orgasm. The release of his tortured cock being finally freed from its constraints, it was mind-blowing.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum for your Mistress.”

Matt wasn’t even touching him when he came. His body rutted into empty space, pleasing for contact and stimulation, but he needed more. He was too far gone. His whole body trembled, tightened, tensed. In the blink of an eye, he felt like he’d cleaned out each and every one of Stark’s liquor cabinets; he felt drunk on this amazingness. His head was swimming in nothing but  _ perfection. _ He had never experienced something so incredible before.

*

Matt took a deep breath, as Frank’s whole body relaxed again. There wasn’t a single trace of tension left in the marine’s body.

“Friday, _Aftercare_ Protocol , please.”

“Sure thing.”

The lights buzzed for a moment as they were dimmed down, the room temperature was raised a few degrees, and soft music started playing. Matt moved quickly; he undid his boots and tossed them aside, he shimmied out of the tights and sighed at the rip he had made over the crotch, and got the latex top off. He grabbed the boxers he’d set out beforehand, and put them on quickly.

Frank was still just laying there, breathing through his final orgasm, when Matt came to sit at his side. He pet the man’s hair gently, and ran his fingers softly over his face.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m here.” Matt whispered. “You just need to get to bed, baby, then you can sleep.”

Frank groaned, a sad and tired sound. Tears were still running down his face. Matt wiped them away, kissing either his cheeks where the tears had been.

“It’ll be just a minute, baby. I’ll help. I’ll be right here. I wish I could carry you, but I’m not that strong, babe.”

Frank shivered, cold all of a sudden. He tried to curl into a ball, sluggish hands groping the air after Matt. He caught Frank’s hand, held it tight and kissed his knuckles.

“I know, baby, I know it hurts. C’mon. Let’s get you to bed, and I’ll take care of you.”

Getting Frank to his feet was a process all on its own. He was slow and heavy and exhausted. He groaned and whined at the aching in his body. Matt threaded Frank’s arm over his shoulders, carrying most of his weight, and wrapped his own arm around Frank’s waist, to steady him and keep him upright. Frank walked like he was drunk. He stumbled and staggered; it was as if he didn’t know quite where his feet were.

But Matt got him to bed, got him tucked in under the covers. He was out like a light, almost as soon as his head hit the pillows. Thankfully, Matt managed to get him to drink a few gulps of water before he passed out at least. It was something. He could sleep for now. Matt would have to wake him soon, though, and get him to eat something. He needed the energy.

“Friday, if anyone’s still watching, kick them from the feed.” he ordered. “This part is not their business.”

“They’ve been kicked, sir.” Friday replied, her volume turned down to a soft whisper. “Several of them are asking me to tell you they enjoyed the show. Some are wondering if perhaps they could speak with you and Mister Castle about it at a later time.”

“Please, let them know we can figure something out a little later.”

“Yes, sir.”

Matt hurried to the bathroom; he didn’t want to be away from Frank for too long. Frank needed him close by, needed to feel Matt’s presence with him. He grabbed the first aid kit and a hand-towel soaked with warm water, but stopped for a moment to wipe the lipstick from his mouth before hurrying back to bed.

Frank still needed to be cleaned up and cared for.

** * **

**_ At dinner, several hours later... _ **

 

Frank limped into the dining room. The team looked up, but he didn’t mind. They already knew how he got the marks on his back, and the reason behind the cotton pads taped all over his chest. He would’ve worn a shirt, but raising his arms enough to put one on hurt like hell.

He hissed softly as he sat down in an empty seat. No one questioned it. He rested his head in one hand. With the other, he gave his plate a nudge. Barton, who happened to be sitting next to him, didn’t hesitate to grab the plate and pile up a healthy serving of lasagna on it. Romanov poured some water into Frank’s glass.

“How are you?” Rogers asked.

Frank grunted. He shoveled some lasagna into his mouth, chewing slowly. It was hard to keep his eyes open. Matt fell into the second empty seat, on Frank’s other side. He nearly melted at the gentle fingers of the blind man running through his hair.

“Sometimes, he gets nonverbal after heavy scenes.” Matt explained softly. “Needs time to recover. He’ll be alright soon enough.”

No one said a word to that. Frank nudged softly at Matt’s arm. Matt smiled and pet Frank's hair again.  


“I know, baby, I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am not even sorry about this
> 
> also there is more coming, but it might be a lil while now <3


	5. Part Five: Will You Give Me Shelter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from:  
> Shelter, by Dorothy
> 
> This chapter is low-key for AO3 user IanPeriwinkle, bc of their comment on the previous chapter where they mentioned that they wanted to see more interactions with Clint, and i realized that ‘thats a good fuckin idea, i want some of that shit too’ so thank IanPeriwinkle for this soft!Frank mess
> 
> And if you havent already noticed, i said ‘fuck that’ to Movie Clint because that was a travesty and a half, and this is I guess kinda my own Clint? Sort of a mix between Comic Clint and Movie Clint, without all the terrible parts of Movie Clint (a.k.a. without pretty much everything but the faceclaim)
> 
> Also, lbh, fuck canon, just in general, im making this shit up as i go along

Oh, no, no, no. Fucking shit, fuck, fuck,  _ fuck. _ This was  _ not _ happening! This was  _ the worst _ timing ever, in the history of the fucking world!

Foggy was in the fucking hospital and no one would tell neither Matt nor Karen  _ a goddamn thing, _ and Frank was in bed, still verging on  _ comatose _ in his comedown from subspace and needed Matt to be there for him.

This was a horrible, horrible choice, and Matt didn’t know what to do. His best friend needed him, but his husband  _ also _ needed him. This wasn’t a choice he  _ wanted _ to make, it wasn’t one he was sure he  _ could _ make.

But Foggy could be fucking  _ dying _ for all Matt knew! And...Matt knew Frank knew how much Matt loved Foggy; he was the closest thing to a brother Matt had ever had! And Frank did also kind of care about Foggy. No, they weren’t close, they were nowhere near being friends, hell, they were barely friend _ly, _ but Frank cared because he knew Matt loved Foggy. Frank would want Matt to go be with Foggy, be with his brother. Right?

_ Shit! _

“’Sup, Murdick?” Clint said as he answered the intercom call.

_ “Clint! _ Thank God! Fuck, I need your help! I wouldn’t ask something like this if it wasn’t a huge fucking emergency,” Matt spoke rapidly. ”-but it kinda is a huge fucking emergency and Friday says you’re the only one available and  _ I really, really need your help! _ ”

 _ “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Murdock!” _ the archer said. “Slow it down, where are you?”

“Mine and Frank’s room!”

“Two minutes!”

The call cut out there.

Matt paced nervously, wringing his hands around his cellphone, as he waited. Fuck, he wished Karen would just call and tell him Foggy was somehow perfectly alright and there was nothing wrong in the world! His insides twisted all around themselves with worry.

Clint was at the door in one minute flat. Matt dragged him inside, shutting the door tight behind him.

“What’s goin’ on, Matt?” he asked.

His heart rate spiked slightly when he turned and saw Frank passed out in bed.

“Is he okay? Did something happen?”

Matt ran his hands through his hair, hurrying over to the bedside. Clint followed, smelling thickly of anxiety.

“We played a heavy scene over the morning, a-and I need to take care of him through the drop, but my friend Karen called.” he explained, as he tucked the covers in a little tighter around his husband. “You’ve met Foggy, right?”

“Yeah?”

_ Shit, _ Matt’s hands were shaking like crazy. He just wanted Foggy to be okay, and Frank to be okay, and  _ everyone to be okay! _ The archer’s hand came to rest on Matt’s shoulder.

“Just...take a breath, and tell me what’s going on.” Clint said calmly.

Matt forced himself to still. He closed his eyes. Inhale through the nose, deep and filling. Exhale through the mouth, slow and emptying.

“Foggy was in court a-and the trial didn’t go his way, and the client  _ freaked out _ and fucking  _ jumped him!” _

He hissed the words out; it was a struggle to keep from shouting, and waking Frank. God, he was losing his mind,  _ he was so worried. _

“And the hospital won’t tell me anything and they won’t let Karen in to see him, and I just...I just need someone to take care of Frank while I go into the city.” he said finally. “I just need to legal-speak the doctors into telling me what’s going on. Y-You really don’t have to do much either! Just keep him in bed, and get him to drink some water if he wakes up and maybe get him to eat a powerbar if you can, they’re in the left side nightstand, and if he starts getting upset or somethin’, just...cuddle him and read the book on the nightstand.”

Matt couldn’t actually  _ see it, _ but he could  _ feel _ Clint staring at him with wide eyes.

“A-And if he starts getting... _handsy, _ just roll him over and spoon him, that usually puts him out. And if you get the chance, there’s a tin on the nightstand with a soothing cream, just rub it on his back to help settle the welts.”

“I’m not...sure I’m the best person for this?” the archer said hesitantly. “I wanna help,  _ I do,  _ but...I’m not...”

Matt grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly as if to show his desperation.

_ “Please. _ I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency, because trust me,  _ the last thing _ I wanna do is leave Frank when he’s like this, but  _ Foggy needs me too, _ and I  _ can’t _ make this choice but I  _ have to, _ so I’m asking you as a friend, Clint.” Matt pleaded. “Please. It’ll just be an hour. Two, at the most.”

*

Shit...

Yeah, Clint could see that this was one of those  _ rock and a hard place _ situations, and Matt was kind of being forced to make a really, really hard choice here.

And yeah, maybe Clint was  _ a little _ honored that Matt trusted him enough to put Frank in his care, but Clint was also very much  _ super scared of messing this up_. It was the Punisher! God knows what kind of fucked up shit he’d do to Clint as revenge for fucking this up! And fuck, Matt could be  _ really _ scary when Frank’s safety was involved so  _ maybe _ the Punisher also wasn’t Clint’s biggest fear at the moment.

“Okay?” he agreed. “Okay. I’ll...do my best?”

Matt deflated with relief. He grabbed Clint by the front of his shirt and dragged him in for a tight hug. It only lasted for a handful of moments, but the gratitude in it was obvious.

“Call me if  _ anything _ happens, and if you have any questions, you can ask Friday, she knows how I usually handle things.” Matt said raptly as he pulled away.

He leaned over the bed, pressing a loving kiss to Frank’s head, then headed for the door.

“O-Okay?” Clint said. “A-Anything else?”

“That should be it!” Matt said, stopping on the threshold. “Just...pretend he’s a kid, a-and all you have to do it keep his down for his nap! I’ll be back  _ as soon _ as I can, I promise. And  _ thank you so much, _ Clint! Thank you! I owe you,  _ big time!” _

Clint nodded jerkily, and made a half-hearted shoo-ing motion at the blind man, knowing the guy could still tell he was doing it.

“Yeah. Yeah, just...get going.” he said. “I got this. I think. Maybe.  _ Possibly.” _

“Thank you! Thank you so much, Clint!” Matt said, halfway out the door already. “I owe you! Thank you!”

The door shut behind him, and Clint was somehow left alone to babysit the Punisher. Who thought  _ that _ was a good idea?

As if sensing that Matt was gone, Frank stirred and grunted. Clint was certain he looked pretty much like a deer in headlights, with how he was staring at the big lug under the covers try to fight his way free.

“Oh, no? No, no, no, you  _ stay.” _ Clint muttered to himself, panicking only slightly, as he scrambled to get on the bed.

But once he sat there, Castle whimpering and whining beside him, he hesitated. What now? What was he supposed to do? Matt said to  _ cuddle him _ if he got upset, but...Clint wasn’t so sure Frank would be a-okay with that once he got his head screwed on right again. 

Clint wasn’t given much say in the matter, though, as it seemed that Frank decided that any warm body in the close vicinity just  _ had to _ be Matt and flumped himself across Clint, resting his head on the archer’s chest and wrapping an arm around him. The man exhaled a soft breath, and seemed to settle in to sleep a little more.

Okay.

Okay. Okay. Okay. This was totally okay. Fine. Perfectly fine. Clint was just cuddling with the Punisher on the behest of the Punisher’s husband. Perfectly normal. So super, perfectly, absolutely normal. Nothing weird about this.

“May I suggest that you pet his hair, Mister Barton?” Friday chipped softly, whispering to him. “According to my readings of Mister Castle’s heart rate, petting his hair has consistently been shown to have a calming effect him.”

“O-Okay.”

It was a little awkward, but Clint rested his hand gently on Frank’s head, fingers running through the wild-grown black locks. Frank let out another sighing breath, and seemed to be...calm.

Okay.

This was good. This was very good. The more he slept, the less Clint had to freak out about. So...he just had to keep him down for his nap, like Matt said. Clint could do this. He was a highly skilled  _ assassin! _ He could take care of a...man-baby? Ew, no, that sounded way wrong, let’s not call it that.  _ Anyway! _ Clint could do this! No problem! Just...keep him asleep. No big deal, right?

*

Frank woke up and started crying after maybe half an hour. He looked around with bleary eyes and sluggish hands tried to find something to hold onto. Clint might have freaked out  _ a little bit. _

Shit, shit, shit, what did Matt say again? If he gets upset, just... _cuddle him and read him the book! _ The book! Where was the book?!  _ Nightstand! _

Clint shuffled down slightly in the bed, until Frank’s head was on his shoulder and he could wrap his arm around the marine. He pulled the covers up a little further. He tried to keep petting his hair too, while he read.

It was uncomfortable as hell; Frank weighed a fucking ton and somehow his skull was pointy enough to kind of hurt Clint’s shoulder a little, but he started settling again after the first few pages so Clint was totally okay with everything else.  _ One Batch, Two Batch? _ Hm, Clint remembered  _ the Couch Incident. _ Thankfully, there was a lot less blood and strangulation involved this time around.

Frank hugged Clint tightly. Almost like he was scared of being left alone. And he snored softly into Clint’s chest, rubbing his face in the man’s shirt now and then.

It was kind of adorable.

Clint took pictures. This would be  _ great _ blackmail material! Imagine that! He could make  _ the Punisher _ help him prank the rest of the team! It was going to be super fucking awesome.

It might also get him shot, but hey,  _ cross that bridge when we get to it _ and all that shit!

*

He woke up again almost exactly another half hour later, and Clint definitely wasn’t a little creeped out by  _ that _ punctuality. At least he didn’t cry this time.

Frank stared at the ceiling for about five minutes, then gave in to Clint’s coaxing and chugged a bottle of water and choked down half a powerbar. Then he got, as Matt put it,  _ handsy. _ And he did start to cry, when Clint refused to have sex with him. Thankfully, though, he rolled over without argument, sobbed into a pillow, and let himself be spooned.

Clint had lived through alien invasions and the rise of evil AIs, but this might still have been one of the weirdest days of his life.

*

_ “Barton.” _

Clint almost had a heart attack.

They were still spooning. He was frozen solid with panic. He literally could not move.  _ Oh, God, the Punisher was going to beat him to death. _ Or maybe smother him with a pillow. Either way, the sentiment remained the same;  _ oh, God, the Punisher was going to kill him. _

“Why the fuck are we spooning?”

Clint was lost for words for a second.

“Well, you wanted to fork, but you’re a married man and despite what Stark says when I drink coffee straight from the pot, I do have standards.”

It slipped out before he could stop it.  _ Damn his big mouth! _

“Barton, you got  _ ten seconds _ to start explainin’ what the fuck’s goin’ on, because there’s a gun in my nightstand and you know damn well I know how to use it.”

 _“Okay, okay,_ just hear me out!” Clint said quickly. And  _ Jesus, _ Frank really needed to get off Clint’s arm because Clint hadn’t had any feeling in his fingers for the last twenty minutes. “A  _ Karen, _ don’t know who that is, called Matt and Foggy’s in the hospital.”  


Frank was sitting up faster than Clint would have thought was possible given the state he’d been in not too long ago.

_ “What? _ What happened?” the marine asked.

Clint took a deep breath and sat up as well, flexing his fingers and massaging his bicep to get the blood flowing right again.  _ Christ, _ that was painful.

“Some asshole client assaulted him ‘cause the guy’s trial didn’t go his way, apparently. And Matt really didn’t wanna leave you, but no one was tellin’ him  _ or _ this  _ Karen _ lady anything, so he had to go throw down his legal kung fu,” he explained as best he could. ”-as opposed to his regular kung fu, and figure things out.”

This was...awkward. Clint was wary of the distance between the marine and the nightstand. At least for this next bit.

“He just...asked me to look after you while he was gone. And you were...cryin’ and stuff, and  _ Matt said _ to cuddle you if you got upset,” he continued. ”-then you fell asleep on my arm and...I didn’t wanna wake you by moving?”

“Oh.”

Not the reaction Clint expected, but he’d sure as hell fucking take it.

“Well...thanks?” Frank said lowly. “I guess. Sorry?”

Awkward.

“No, no. It’s...okay.”

Frank cleared his throat. He ran his hands through his hair, and leaned back against the headboard. Though, he was careful when doing so, his back was probably giving him a piece of its mind about how it had been treated. And shit, Clint hadn’t had the opportunity to put that cream on him.

“D’you...know how Foggy’s doin’?” Frank asked finally.

Clint nodded and leaned back as well. “Yeah, I talked Matt a while ago, when you were asleep. Foggy’s in one piece, at least. A little banged up, but Matt said courthouse security stepped in pretty quick, before it got too serious. He hit his head, got knocked out, so things were lookin’ kinda dicey for a while, but he’s doin’ okay, last I heard. He’s staying with Karen for a bit, until the concussion passes. Matt said he’s gonna try to figure things out with the cops on Foggy’s behalf, and get back as soon as he can.” he promised.

The marine let out a sigh that sounded somewhat relieved.

“Good. That’s good.” Frank said.  _ “Get out.” _

“But Matt said-” Clint tried.

_ “Don’t care. Get out.” _

Well,  _ shit..._Matt was going to be all over Clint if he walked out now.

“Mister Barton, I recommend staying for roughly another hour.” Friday interrupted. “I’ve been tracking Mister Castle’s recoveries, and the numbers suggest he’ll be at his normal state in roughly 73 minutes. I can still detect slowed pupillary responses, and his oxygenation is also lower than the norm. At this point in time, I don’t recommend leaving Mister Castle without human supervision.”

_ HA! Suck it, Castle! _

“You heard the lady.  _ Suck it up.” _ Clint said, grabbing the half-eaten powerbar, a new bottle of water, and the soothing cream from the nightstand on his side and placed the former two in either Frank’s hands. “Drink that, eat that, and let me put this shit on your back. You wanna spoon some more, or you want me to read to you?”

Castle stared at him, looking almost...confused?

“I...”

His tired eyes fell closed. He let out a sigh.

“The second one?”

Clint nodded. “You want me to tuck you in?” he asked.

Frank sighed again. “Yeah...”

“Okay. Eat up, then we’ll put the cream on and I’ll tuck you in.”

*

Frank and Clint were still spooning when Matt came home.

The blind man could not for the life of him stop grinning.

He also asked Friday to save some pictures of it. This would be great blackmail material.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fear not, my lovelies! This is NOT the end for the Fratt-Avengers adventures!  
> Im working on some more stuff involving the Avengers, but given how im planning those works to turn out, i felt like it would be better to cut this thing off here, and keep those other ideas in a work of its own.
> 
> so like i said, fear not! there is more to come! <3


End file.
